In Loving Memory
by 666-HyuugaNeji-999
Summary: Rescue can come in many different forms and appear in the most unlikely of places. Hermione's saviour is the only thing keeping her from losing herself after she was left behind at the Manor. Can she do the same, when a familiar stranger needs her help? And will she take his help in return? Rated M for distressing scenes, violence and possible later language. Eventual DraMione.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on here and it's also the first time ever that I've posted a story in this fandom. I'll only be posting the first chapter for now; I've got a couple more chapters written and notes for the rest, but as I'm in the middle of a busy time at uni I probably won't be able to post very often, at least until I go home for Christmas in a few weeks. I hope that's okay :3**

**Anyway, here's a taster for my new story, In Loving Memory. I hope you like! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I know everyone says this, but great reviews realy do wonders for my motivation to write and upload, so if you like this it's in your interests to let me know!**

**Disclaimer: Characters, locations and canon story owned by JK Rowling. No copyright infringment intended, honest ^_^**

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**Chapter 1**

S_hrieks of laughter mingle with agonised screams, the hideous mixture bouncing off the walls and echoing like the voice of a banshee choir. The girl's heels drum involuntarily on the floor as she suffers the worst pain she has ever experienced. Her body reacts instinctively, desperately seeking escape when screaming isn't enough of an outlet for the pain. Vision greying round the edges, she tries to turn her head, to look away from her tormentor's black, frenzied eyes. Someone's shouting her name, a voice she knows, but she can't see him. Can't reach him. Can only lie there and scream while her sanity is ripped away from her at the tip of a wand, or the blade of a knife. A loud 'crack' resounds through the room and somehow, without having to see for herself, she knows they've gone. They've gone and left her to die. _

Jerking awake, she gasped first in relief that she had woken, then in renewed panic as she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes made no difference to the darkness; no light pervaded this dungeon, except for the lanterns brought by whichever Death Eater had been chosen that day to take her upstairs, or (less regularly) when she was brought food. It had almost become a routine and, though the pain never got any easier to bear, she had learned fairly quickly that the less she struggled and fought on the way to the torture chamber, the sooner it would be over and she would be returned to the darkness. Despite this, in a twisted way she almost looked forward to being taken upstairs, simply to experience being able to see for a few hours. The torture was awful, beyond description, but being left down here with her nightmares and paranoia was a form of torture in itself.

The events of that particular nightmare had occurred weeks ago, or so she believed; it was impossible to tell days from nights down here. She'd tried counting how many times she was brought food, but pretty soon she'd started forgetting to count because of her ravenous hunger. Besides, what did it matter? The important thing was that she was still here, still a prisoner. Nobody had come back for her, or even tried to save her in the first place. The only reason she was still alive was Bellatrix Lestrange's thirst for vengeance against the girl who, in her eyes, was the cause of the Dark Lord's displeasure with his most faithful follower. Bellatrix would never let her die while she could still wring a few screams out of her.

She'd used to get a twinge of smugness or pleasure when she imagined the Dark Lord's fury at Bellatrix and the Malfoys after he heard that they had lost Harry Potter. Now it was difficult to feel anything but terror every time she was reminded of the world upstairs. She didn't even resent the fact she had been 'given' like an object to Bellatrix anymore. Her resentment had gone when she'd realised it would just make her situation even worse.

Suddenly, her heart started to race and a whimper of panic caught in her throat. There was a light, bright and sharp, at the other end of the corridor.

_No no please not yet I don't want to please not now-_

"Hey, Granger. It's lunchtime."

Hermione realised she'd been whimpering her pleas aloud and flushed with embarrassment. "Nott?"

"The very same." Theo smiled as he hung the lantern on a hook in the the wall of the corridor, illuminating the cell. After the intense darkness, the light was too bright for Hermione's eyes; she shielded her face through her fingers as he opened the cell door and stepped inside. He set down a small jug of water on the floor beside her and held out a plate. "Here."

"Th-Thanks," she stammered, resisting the urge to snatch the plate from him and stuff her face. She hadn't been fed more than a couple of mouthfuls a day since she was imprisoned and her body was crying out for food. Unfolding her other arm from around her abdomen, she reached out for the plate, shivering as she did so. She'd almost felt warm, huddled in a ball, but now the cold dampness of the dungeon air crept down her neck and made her teeth chatter.

"Gods, it's cold down here!" Nott rubbed his arms to ward off the chills. "You're going to freeze if they don't give you a blanket or something."

Hermione shrugged, not looking up from the small bowl of cold vegetable stew she was currently investigating with a finger. She quickly decided it was okay, then started shovelling into her mouth, unable to slow down in her desperation for nourishment. Had it been any other Death Eater bringing her food, she would wait until they'd gone so she could eat it carefully. Hidden shards of glass, the scrapings of what had tasted like an ashtray and other awful additions had taught her to be cautious to the point of paranoia. Nott had always been kind, though. He wouldn't do anything like that to her.

Theo watched her eat, looking down at her with a surge of pity for the girl's plight. Nobody deserved the full brunt of Bellatrix's wrath, especially when this was all they had to return to afterwards. At least Draco had been allowed to crawl to his bedroom and recover in relative comfort after his punishment a few weeks back. He felt a stab of hatred and disgust for everyone who had contributed on the wrong side of this awful war. Especially for himself, when he saw every day just how bad it was and still did nothing to change it.

The lantern flickered and he remembered the other reason he'd come down. He let himself back out of the cell and locked it behind him, turning to the cell on the other side of the corridor. He wasn't allowed to know who was in the cell and had been given strict instructions to put the food down on the floor by the door and get out. He was not to interact with the other prisoner in any way and would be questioned under Veritaserum if there was any suspicion that he had done so. He didn't even dare spend much time wondering why, fearing that this seemingly harmless musing could invoke the Dark Lord's wrath.

Theo carried out his orders quickly and went back to Hermione's cell, noting with a smile that she had evenly divided the food into two portions and appeared to be saving half for later. That was something she'd started doing after a week or so; he wondered it if was a means of pretending, just for a few seconds, that everything was alright as long as she had control over something. Maybe it was just so that she wouldn't be hungry later. Whatever it was, he just hoped it worked for her.

"Who's in there?" she asked, looking up as she set the half-empty water jug back down. "I didn't see anyone get brought down."

"I don't know," he replied, alarm bells starting to ring in his head. _I can't have this conversation, especially not with her!_ "I, uh, I have to go now," he said quickly.

"You have to go already?" She jerked her head up, disappointment mixed with fear etched into her face. "Don't go yet, Nott- Theo, please."

"I have to. I'm sorry," he said honestly, feeling a pang of both happiness and despair as she called him by his first name in her desperation. There had long been - still was - a part of him that had longed to hear her call him 'Theo' for years. He'd much rather stay down here with her than go back up and be told what his next awful mission would be, but this conversation was in very dangerous territory now. "I'll try to come back tomorrow. And there's a treat for you under the bread," he added, trying fruitlessly to distract her.

"No, Theo! Please don't leave me down here!" She ran to the bars and clutched them desperately. "Please, Theo!"

This was the part he hated the most. He could handle anger, or resentment, or even fear, though he wouldn't enjoy them. But he'd take them any day over this dreadful, desperate pleading. It took all of his will and self-control not to go straight back and enfold her in his arms. But he had a part to play and it didn't involve being friendly with Bellatrix's "pet mudblood".

Hermione knew she was embarrassing herself, but she didn't care. She just didn't want to be left alone again. "_Theo_!" she screamed against the bars, but he didn't turn around. The light disappeared with him, leaving her in pitch darkness.

It took several minutes (though it felt like hours) before her heartbeat started to settle back into something like a normal rhythm. She had managed to keep her terror from developing into a full-blown panic attack, but it was still enough to leave her panting harshly with both hands clasped around her knees, trying to will her heart to behave. It was a horrible feeling, being able to feel her heartbeat without touching her chest; it made her feel slightly sick, but she kept breathing deeply until her heartbeat returned to normal and her body stopped shaking quite so violently.

It was almost annoying that, despite repeat experience, this seemed to happen every time she was plunged back into the darkness. Something similar happened every time she was dragged upstairs for her daily dose of torture, but at least there were more distractions up there. Down here, all she had to think about was how alone and helpless she was. A sensation she was growing horribly used to.

She put her hand down on something dusty and remembered that she had food beside her. Regardless of her usual custom of leaving some for later, she decided to heed her starving stomach and picked up the bread - and promptly dropped it in disgust as her fingers touched something cold and greasy. It definitely wouldn't be the first time someone had put something awful on her food, though she had never expected it from Nott. _Guess he really was too good to be true,_ she thought bitterly. Then she paused as she remembered something he'd said before he left.

"_...there's a treat for you under the bread."_

She raised her hand to her face and cautiously licked the tip of one finger. Her eyes widened and she took a bite of the bread, almost groaning with pleasure as the delicious taste of butter filled her mouth. She'd never tasted anything so lovely as that piece of dry, thinly buttered bread. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realised exactly what Theo had done. He'd risked his own hide - being nice to the mudblood was punishable by torture or even death, if Bellatrix was in a bad mood - just to give her a nicer meal? To make _her_ happy? Why would he do that for her, a filthy mudblood, lowest of the low?

Hermione took two more bites, but forced herself to set the bread down and leave some for later. It wouldn't do to eat the whole thing now and have nothing for dinner. Or whatever meal it was. She had no way to tell and no-one to ask.

* * *

The darkness and silence stretched on for what felt like several hours before Hermione decided it was time to finish her food. Pitifully grateful that nobody had come to take it away, she pulled the plate towards her and picked up the small bowl of vegetable stew, tipping the last of it into her mouth. In her starved state, it tasted amazing, and she quickly finished it off, licking out the bowl to get every scrap of food. Moving on to the sliced apple, she nibbled it as slowly as she could, methodically chewing each piece as much as possible. Even now (imprisoned, routinely tortured and starved as she was), she could hear her parents lamenting her current lack of dental hygiene all the way from Australia. A few bits of old, slightly squishy apple were the closest she ever got to being able to clean her teeth, but it was the best she could get, so she'd take it.

Once the apple was finished, she picked up the piece of buttered bread and considered it for a moment. Why would Nott do this for her? Even when they were both at school, he'd never spoken a word to her, always in the shadows of Malfoy's entourage. He hadn't been one to laugh at Malfoy's bullying or mudblood jokes, though. She didn't understand why he would be so kind to her, unless it would all end up being a cruel joke and she would be humiliated and made to pay for her false hope. Maybe that was all this was.

_No. You can't think like that. Don't let them win._

Hermione nodded to herself. She couldn't let her own paranoia stop her from making the most of her only friend in this hell. She hoped with all her heart that Nott wouldn't get in trouble for giving her the butter. It was strange that such a small thing, something that she'd taken for granted all her life, could have the potential to destroy the only friendly face she'd seen for weeks, and probably the only one she'd ever see again. It was a terrifying thought.

To distract herself, she took a bite of the bread and savoured the salty taste of the butter, thinking about her friend, the Death Eater. Even in this place, she had a friend, someone who wouldn't torture or kill her on a whim, who would risk their own lives to make hers just that little bit better. At that moment, she felt like she could die happy, as long as Voldemort let her finish her bread before he killed her.

As soon as the plate was empty, it vanished, just like always. She'd done some experiments in the first few days of her imprisonment and found that they always disappeared if they were empty of food, if they got broken, or if they moved faster than a certain speed. That meant that she couldn't hoard the empty plates, break them to use as weapons or throw them at anyone. It was a brief disappointment at the time, but quickly forgotten as starvation began to set in and she started to associate the plates only with the thought of much-needed food. The longer she stayed, the more the idea of gaining freedom receded in likelihood (and therefore importance).

She swallowed her last mouthful of bread and chased it with a large gulp of water, lamenting the end of her meal but enjoying the lingering taste of butter that stayed on her tongue. It made for a much less bland and more stimulating experience than her food usually did, that much was certain. _If I ever get out of here, _she resolved, _I'll never take bread and butter for granted again. It'll be my favourite food. _

Footsteps caught the edge of her hearing and, to her horror, she saw a light approaching from the other end of the corridor. Her heart started to race and her palms grew slick with sweat as the footsteps stopped outside her cell, their perpetrator grinning down at her with sharp yellowed teeth. She started to shake, eyes wide, as Fenrir Greyback opened the cell door and walked inside, grabbing her by the arm.

_No no please I can't please don't make me-_

"Time to play, sweetheart," he growled, jerking her to her feet and yanking her towards the door. The force of the yank made her bite her tongue, her mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. A distant part of her noted ruefully that the lovely taste of butter had been replaced by a much more normal flavour - normal for her life now, anyway. The cold air of the dungeon made her shake even more violently as he dragged her through the rows of cells to the stairs which led to upstairs.

_Please let her kill me let it stop I don't want to please please please just let me die...  
_

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**Well, there you have it! I hope it was a good start. I think (fingers crossed) that this is going to be a fairly long story, so please leave a review to tell me what you liked/didn't like, so I can make sure the rest of the story is improved as needed :) **

**Thanks so much for reading! :D  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! :D **

**I hope you guys liked the first chapter. I know I said that updates wouldn't be for a while but since I had this written up already I thought I'd post it anyway. **

**Warning: this chapter contains some fairly graphic description of torture, so consider yourselves duly warned :)**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

Theo watched, his expression impassive, as Greyback carried Granger back down the stairs to the dungeons, her limp body slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He hadn't wanted to watch the torture, but the Dark Lord was very specific about the younger, less established Death Eaters watching these sessions. He said it was 'character building' for them, and would teach them the importance of obedience, power and blood purity. Apparently he felt that the younger recruits who hadn't been involved for as long were more likely to doubt the cause or try to leave. Theo wasn't exactly in a position to disagree. As he wasn't needed for any Death Eater duties outside of the Manor right now, he had no excuse not to attend.

Bellatrix had been particularly cruel today, Theo had observed. She must have had a bad morning.

With most victims she tended to stick to the traditional Cruciatus curse, making them scream until they lost their marbles, like Longbottom's parents. Theo had been forced to laugh along with the other Death Eaters while Bellatrix regaled the group with this tale over dinner, some months ago. It had made him feel sick to his stomach at the time, especially as he still remembered the Longbottom kid from school. They had never spoken but the fact that he remembered him from school made sure his parent's fate still didn't sit well with Theo. Now, though, he had been forced to become impervious to such things, to endure their screams and pretend they had no effect. It was the only way he would survive this war with his family intact and not end up like Longbottom's parents himself.

With Hermione, however, Bellatrix usually got a lot more creative. From what Theo had witnessed, she liked to start with the Cruciatus curse, sometimes allowing other Death Eaters to join in if they wanted to. Then, once Hermione had given in and started begging for the pain to stop, Bellatrix would start to magically break Hermione's bones, one by one. The loud cracks would fill the room until Bellatrix had decided she'd had enough, then she'd put away her wand and the whole affair would become a lot more up-close and personal. The madwoman owned a knife, that she always carried on her person, which had been cursed to leave scars no matter what type of healing magic was used. Only if the magic was used straight away would scarring be avoided; as if that was going to happen here.

That was how Bellatrix liked to draw out the torture, slowly carving anything from words to random shapes into Hermione's skin, until the poor girl was unable to scream anymore, feet kicking involuntarily and blood pooling on the polished wooden floor beneath her. Only when Hermione had passed out would Bellatrix let up, healing her wounds enough that the bleeding wouldn't kill her, but not enough to prevent the scars. Someone would force-feed Hermione a vial of Skele-Gro, then take her back to her cell to await tomorrow's session. It made Theo feel physically sick to see how much Bellatrix enjoyed torturing the girl. It was as if the mere fact that she existed was a personal affront to the woman. She wasn't even trying to get information out of her anymore, not that this detail made it any better.

Once the evening's activities - for lack of a better word - were over and he was free to leave, he walked through the dark hallways to his room, mulling over what to do. He wanted to help Hermione, so badly, but he didn't know how. If he tried to take her food or healing potions, the house elves would know and report him to their master; the last thing he wanted was for Lucius Malfoy to know he was helping the mudblood. What else could he do?

A cold breeze made the green velvet drapes flutter for several seconds. Goosebumps rose on his arms and he shivered, flicking his wand at the fireplace to light the logs piled in the grate. The room began to warm up almost instantly thanks to the roaring blaze and the spark of an idea appeared in his mind.

Opening his wardrobe, he grabbed a couple of fleece blankets from the shelf at the top and raised his wand, casting a powerful Disillusionment charm. Thanks to Flitwick's guidance and his natural talent for wandcraft, he'd always been good at charms, but he'd never tried this spell on an inanimate object before. He assumed that the principle was much the same as it was for people. Sure enough, the blankets faded out of view from the point where his wand had touched, until they were almost invisible. He draped one over his arm to check. It was as if there was a very slight haze hanging over the material of his sleeve, but nobody would be able to see it unless they knew what to look for.

He checked the time on the clock over the mantelpiece. Hermione had held out for longer than he'd realised - it was already almost eight o'clock. Soon he'd have to join the others for dinner, no doubt accompanied by Bellatrix and her twisted torture stories. His idea would have to wait until later.

Folding up the blankets again - with some difficulty, since he couldn't see them very well - he placed them back on the shelf and straightened his robes. Halfway down the stairs, he could already hear Bellatrix's screeching laugh, combined with deeper laughs as she told the story of today's 'fun'. He grimaced, then gritted his teeth and descended into the dining room.

"Squealed like a filthy pig, she did!" Bellatrix crowed, inadvertently doing a fair impression of a pig herself. Theo caught Blaise's eye and they shared an identical look of mingled amusement and resignation, but didn't dare speak, even quietly. As he ate his food in silence, he made a mental note to kill Bellatrix at the first chance he got.

* * *

Hermione woke to find herself drowning in a pitch-black sea of pain. Every muscle burned and her head was pounding like a steam-hammer. Worst of all, she could still taste the sharp, spicy flavour of Skele-Gro and feel the horrible itching sensation as all of her bones mended themselves under her skin. Normally she would stay unconscious long enough for the sensation to wear off, leaving only a dull ache in her joints and the sickening metallic taste of her own blood. Apparently today really wasn't her day.

She tried to turn her head a little to the side, but even that tiny movement was enough to make her whimper in pain, pressing her bitten lips together tightly to keep from crying out. The cold had seeped up from the stone floor beneath her, causing cramp in her muscles and making everything hurt even more. Her eyes stung and tears started to trickle down her battered face as she felt cold waves of despair filling her up. She swivelled her eyes to face what she thought was the direction of the door, though of course she couldn't see it. The only way she would ever leave this place would be as a corpse, unless Bellatrix decided to move house and take her pet mudblood with her. That was a fairly unlikely prospect, even she - ever the optimist - had to admit.

_I'm never getting out of here. This is my life, now. _

_Better than dying, though, isn't it?_

_Is it?_

Her despair receded, to be replaced by rage. _Was the sword worth it, Harry? _

Hermione realised with another whimper of pain that she had involuntarily clenched her fists. She slowly unclenched them, wincing as her muscles screamed in silent agony, then tried her best to relax her shoulders in the hopes that it would relieve her headache a little. It didn't really help, but at least she felt like she was doing _something_. She knew that these feelings were the same every time she woke up after a session upstairs, but every time felt just as raw as the first.

She tried to distract herself by speculating about what time it was. No sound trickled down through the foundations of the Manor so she had no way of knowing when meals were served, or if there were other prisoners held elsewhere who were also being tortured during her "off hours". She sincerely hoped not.

"Granger?"

The sudden voice in the dark made her jump, tensing every muscle and eliciting a cry of pain, followed by a whimper of terror. "No more, please, I-"

"Relax, Granger. It's me." Nott's face appeared as he lit the end of his wand, then removed what must have been a Disillusionment charm.

Hermione stared unblinkingly at him for at least ten seconds before she realised he was unlocking her cell door. "Wh-What are you doing? It's not...you're not... Are you?" she asked, realising she wasn't making any sense but not bothering to clarify. They wouldn't send Nott to take her upstairs, would they? That would be too cruel...

He seemed to get the gist anyway and shook his head firmly. "Merlin, no. I just thought...it's really cold down here, I thought you could do with these."

Raising his hands, he looked like he was shaking out an invisible blanket. Hermione watched him warily, wondering if she'd finally cracked and started seeing things. Then something soft and warm settled over her freezing body and she forgot all about her mental health. Almost sighing aloud with relief, she relaxed into the warm, somehow invisible material and closed her eyes as the warmth soothed her aching muscles.

"I, uh, used the Disillusionment charm on them, plus a temporary warming spell. I would have used a permanent one but someone might notice the difference if this cell is suddenly that much warmer than the others." Theo realised he was babbling, but the words seemed to comfort the girl. It made sense; with no other choices but to be down here in silence, or up there with nothing but her own screaming and Bellatrix's demonic laughter, anyone else's voice would be a blessing.

"You did this...for me?" Hermione spoke softly, opening her eyes again and looking up at Theo, who still crouched beside her. "Why?"

He hesitated, then blurted out, "I don't know, to be honest. Maybe I'm just hoping that one little act of kindness will save me when we lose the war." _Too much, Theo. Be careful what you say down here._ He closed his mouth and prayed she hadn't worked out exactly what he'd meant by that.

Hermione felt her chapped, dry lips curving upwards in a small smile. "Maybe that's true. If I ever get out of here, I will make sure you come with me, Theo."

Her hand was lying on top of the invisible blankets, inches from his own. All he had to do was reach out and-

Theo stood up abruptly. "I have to get back. If someone finds me down here, at this hour, I'm dead or worse."

Hermione nodded slightly, avoiding large painful movements. "I don't want to cause you trouble, Theo. You've done so much for me already."

The boy nodded in reply, pulling the duplicated keys out of his pocket. He'd be killed just for possessing those, but nobody would find out as long as he got back to his room in time. "I'll try and bring you some food tomorrow, okay? Try and get some sleep."

"Okay. But...Be safe, Theo." Hermione watched the light recede, for the first time able to resist the rising tide of panic brought on by the return to darkness. Maybe it was the promise that he would come back, maybe it was the warm blankets he'd brought. Whichever it was, Hermione the prisoner felt warm and almost comfortable for the first time in weeks.

Thinking over what he'd said, a phrase stuck out in her head. He'd said "when we lose the war". Not if, but _when._ Did he mean what she thought he meant?

_Can I dare to hope?_

* * *

Theo closed his bedroom door silently, removing the Disillusionment charm and renewing the silencing charm on the room before he even sat down. One could never be too careful these days, especially when one lived in a mansion filled with serial killing psychopaths.

He flopped onto the bed, dropping his head into his hands. What was he thinking? This took the phrase 'dangerous territory' to a whole new level, one that he didn't think he was prepared for.

There was no way any of this could work out alright for both of them. If they won the war, she'd be killed with all of the other muggle-borns and half-bloods. If they lost the war (which seemed much more likely, from what he'd heard during Voldemort's councils), he'd be sent to Azkaban with the others for taking the Mark, no matter what the circumstances. Either way, he'd lose her.

'_Lose her'? Can you hear yourself? She's a _mudblood_. You can't get involved, not with this. Not with _her_._ _She's not yours to lose, or to save. _

Not for the first time, Theo wished fervently that the Dark Lord hadn't issued a curfew over the manor. A walk around the grounds or a swim in the lake would have really helped clear his head. Instead he was stuck in here, trying to work out what the hell he was doing. All the while praying that the most evil and terrifying wizard of all time wasn't listening in on his brain.

He wished Malfoy was still around. Draco had been sent away on a mission across the country and had been away for days - probably weeks by now, Theo wasn't really counting. The blonde was one of the few people in this place that Nott could be himself around. It was exhausting keeping up appearances all day, every day, on pain of...well, pain. At least Blaise was still here, but the Italian was distant these days, reluctant to communicate more than a glance at dinner, or a short exchange in the corridors.

Theo glanced at the clock and groaned. It was already past midnight and he had to be up for his turn on guard duty at four. "Mokey!" he said sharply, standing up.

The house-elf appeared in seconds, twisting her hands around the hem of her pillowcase and looking fearful. "How can Mokey be of service, sir?"

"No need to panic. I just need you to come and wake me up at ten minutes to four," Theo instructed, trying to keep his tone as friendly as possible. If Malfoy wanted to be a slave-driver to his elves, that was his choice; Theo personally felt that a little kindness, or at least civility, went a long way. The house-elves had a lot of power over this place, if they only had the courage to take it.

"Yes, of course, sir!" the elf squeaked, bowing low. "Is there anything else you require of Mokey, sir?"

"No, that's all." Theo turned away and pulled off his robes. He was unlikely to sleep much anyway, but he had to at least try. He couldn't afford to become worn down. It would make it far too easy to let his guard down, and that couldn't happen.

As he pulled the warm bedcovers up to his chin, he couldn't help but think of Hermione, lying on a cold stone floor hundreds of feet below. He was glad he'd been able to deliver the blankets to her, as she'd probably catch hypothermia without something to stave off the chill. As long as they didn't get found...

He shook his head at the sudden rush of doubt. The blankets were practically invisible and Hermione was the cleverest witch he'd ever met. If she could keep Weasley, herself and _Harry bloody Potter_ hidden for so many weeks, she'd be able to think of a way to keep a couple of blankets hidden for as long as it took her rescuers. Assuming someone _was_ planning to rescue her.

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**And that was Chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed reading this :) **

**Please leave me a review to tell me what was good/not so good. I welcome constructive criticism as much as praise, if not more - it's always good to know where you can improve :)**

**I don't know for sure when the next update will be (coursework deadline coming up), but I'll try not to make it too long I promise :P**

**Thanks again for reading! ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again everyone :) I'd like to thank buttercup88, for her encouraging review! It made my day to hear from someone who likes how the story started. I'd love to hear from more of you about what you think, too *hint hint* :)  
**

**I'm not going to give you the whole "If I get twenty reviews I'll update tomorrow" thing, because frankly that sounds egotistical and personally it doesn't make me want to review, just on principle. I will say, though, that hearing what people think of my work really does inspire me to work harder and write better. Anyone who posts on this site will tell you guys the same. I won't beg for reviews, but I would love to hear what my readers have to say :D**

**Anyway, enough waffle. Enjoy!  
**

**TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains a scene which some people may find upsetting. **

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**Chapter 3**

Hermione woke slowly the next morning, made drowsy by a mix of exhaustion, malnourishment and the unaccustomed warmth of the blankets Nott had brought her. She snuggled deeper into them, enjoying the break from cold stone under her, and closed her eyes again. If she could go back to sleep, she could pretend she was somewhere else, if only for a few hours...

A sound from somewhere nearby made her eyes snap back open. It made no difference - she still couldn't see an inch in front of her face - but it somehow made her feel a tiny bit less vulnerable. She strained her ears, trying vainly to find the origin of the sound, but the silence almost seemed to grow heavier the harder she tried.

Then, the sound came again, making her jump in shock. It sounded like a sob, or maybe a whimper. Was there someone else down here after all? Could it be the mysterious prisoner Nott wouldn't tell her about?

"Who's there?" she called out, her throat still hoarse from yesterday's screaming. It was always hoarse these days, part of her noted with regret.

There was no reply; whoever had made the noise was obviously unable or unwilling to respond. She frowned and huffed in frustration. If they'd just speak to her, she might be able to recognise their voice and figure out their identity. She was fairly sure it couldn't be either of her frie- couldn't be either of _them_, or she'd have noticed the inevitable commotion. The silence stretched out longer and longer, until she almost thought she'd imagined the noise. She hoped not; that would probably mean she'd lost her marbles.

Hermione's speculations were interrupted by approaching footsteps and the flickering light of a lantern. _Please be Nott, please be Nott,_ she prayed, shrinking back into the shadows and shoving her blankets into the corner of the cell. Panic rose in her throat as she realised the footsteps were too heavy to be the one she hoped for. Was someone else bringing her food today?

Her heartbeat increasing by the millisecond, she stared at the approaching ring of light in terror. She had to bite her bottom lip hard to keep from whimpering when her eyes fell upon the hulking figure of Fenrir Greyback. He grinned when he saw how frightened she was and made an exaggerated act of spreading his hands to show that he wasn't carrying any food for her.

_No no not that not now please don't take me up there I don't want to-_

"No need for that, poppet. No Bellatrix today so I thought I'd come by, make sure you didn't get bored." The werewolf's grin grew wider and she realised that once again she'd been babbling aloud in her fear. If she hadn't been so scared she might have felt embarrassed; as it was, all she could do was cringe away as he stepped up to the door of her cell and unlocked it.

Then she realised what he'd said. _He's not taking me upstairs?_ _But then...what? _Confusion filled her mind for a few moments, but was swiftly replaced by rising fear as he stepped into her cell, leaving the lantern hanging on a hook on the other side of the bars.

The werewolf had always been a source of intense fear for her, especially after she'd heard the appalling stories of his taste for the flesh of children, but he'd only ever been used as a verbal threat to make her cooperate. Now, however, she was truly terrified; she'd never been left alone with him, especially not in such a confined and inescapable situation. Other Death Eaters had come down here a few times, to intimidate her or hurt her with their threats and curses. Her fear of them paled in comparison to her fear of Fenrir Greyback right at that second.

The werewolf folded his arms and leaned against the bars, the flickering light from the lantern causing twisted shadows to dance across the dripping black stone of the dungeon.

"Nice to see you, pet," he said almost conversationally, smiling wickedly down at her huddled figure.

Hermione said nothing, pinching her lips tightly together to hold back her whimpers of fear. That was what this man fed upon, when it wasn't flesh and blood, and she was not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how scared she was.

"What, no 'good morning'? Didn't they teach you manners at that mudblood-loving school?" the monster growled, leaning down until she could see the firelight reflecting off his incisors. "Normally I'd teach you some manners myself, but the boss wants you alive." He unfolded his arms and stepped forward. "Don't see why I can't have a little taste, though."

This time Hermione couldn't hold back a little shriek of terror as the werewolf drew closer. Greyback stood over her, looking down with a lecherous grin.

"Don't be afraid, pet. You never know, maybe you'll enjoy it too," he said, making her blood boil in rage despite her fear. "I'm ten times more of a man than that ginger blood-traitor."

"Don't touch me!" she burst out angrily, using her rage to force some of the fear away. She squeezed herself further into her corner in an attempt to escape his clutching fingers. Wracking her panicked brain, she tried to think of something else, anything else, anything but her fear; all she got were the feelings of loss and resentment she always felt when she thought of Ron and how he had left her behind. Even thinking of _that_ was better than this.

"Hush now, pet, or do I have to shut you up?" It was not a question. Greyback grabbed her by the left arm and yanked her to her feet. She bit her lip at the sharp pain in her shoulder and elbow joints and tried to ignore the way his eyes were taking off her already damaged and filthy clothing. The curses and wounds she had endured during the torture had rendered much of her clothing practically unwearable; she was left with torn and bloodstained jeans and a ripped t-shirt which barely covered her chest, neither of which were useful for staving off the cold. Only a thick blanket made any difference to the temperatures down here - and she only recently learned that fact, courtesy of Nott. Thankfully her underwear and bra were intact, although right now that wasn't much of a consolation. She struggled and tried to rip herself away from him but it was like struggling against a boulder.

Greyback pushed her back against the wall and held her there by placing his forearm across her throat. She choked and tried to throw him off, but his immense strength was far too much for her petite, half-starved body to contend with. He snarled as she managed to land a kick on his shin and pressed harder against her neck. Black spots started to appear across her field of vision, which swam with tears as she became aware of Greyback ripping at her shirt with his free hand, pulling until it came apart in his hand. She squirmed weakly, bringing up her arms to try and cover her chest, her mouth opening in a voiceless scream as air whistled soundlessly through her crushed throat.

Tears rolled down her face as she felt him fumbling at the button on her jeans. It was really going to happen and there was nothing she could do. She wasn't strong enough. Nobody saved her before, nobody was going to save her this time, or ever again.

"Greyback? You down here?"

The sudden voice made both of them start in surprise. Greyback growled under his breath, releasing Hermione so quickly that her weakened legs couldn't take the sudden weight. She dropped hard onto the stone floor, coughing violently and clutching her bruised neck. Sharp pain shot through her knees from the sudden impact.

"What the hell are you doing, Fenrir? The mudblood's off limits, Malfoy said so." The voice came closer and the lantern-light flickered off a wide face with thick-set features and a thatch of black hair. Hermione had vaguely recognised the voice but was now able to put a face to the identity of her saviour.

"Macnair. You couldn't have waited ten minutes?" Greyback snapped, his eyes grazing Hermione with a bizarre mixture of disappointment at the interruption and satisfaction at the fear evident on her face.

"Malfoy said-"

"I know what Malfoy said, alright? What do you want, anyway?" the werewolf asked, turning away and letting himself out of the cell, swiftly locking it behind him. He probably didn't think that the mudblood would try to escape with the two of them there to stop her, but after the Dark Lord's reaction to losing The Boy Who Lived, he obviously wasn't taking any chances. He grabbed the torch and the two of them started walking away from the cells, without sparing a glance back at the terrified Hermione. Even after the light disappeared, she could hear their echoing voices as they continued talking.

"Bellatrix is back, but she'll be off again in a couple of hours. Got a lead on Potter, she said, and she wants you there."

"The woman's mad. Potter'll be long gone by now."

"Still, what Bellatrix wants-"

"Bellatrix gets," Greyback finished with a low growl of annoyance.

The voices faded from earshot and Hermione sank back into the corner, shuddering uncontrollably, reaching out blindly for the blankets. Eventually her hand closed on warm fabric and she pulled it over herself. Hugging her knees, she squeezed her eyes shut until her head hurt, trying to get rid of the feeling of rough, eager hands touching her skin. She whimpered, then winced as the noise sent a stab of pain searing through her damaged throat.

_He was _that _close... He could have..._

She shook her head violently, ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through it at the sudden movement. Raising a shaking hand to her throat, she gingerly touched the inflamed skin and winced. It was hot to touch and felt swollen, making it painful to tilt her head too much. With a pulse of adrenaline, she realised how lucky she was that he hadn't literally crushed the cartilage and bone beneath.

Hermione pulled the blankets up and wrapped them around herself like a cocoon, huddled in the corner of her cell. She hadn't realised just how much she relied on the security of this place. Compared to the torture chambers upstairs, this cell almost felt safe. This was where Nott came to visit her; where she was at her most vulnerable while she slept. Now that was gone. Nowhere was safe.

Letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, she realised tears were streaming down her face. No matter what Bellatrix did to her, she'd always managed to reassure herself that she'd get over it eventually, that it was just pain. This was different, though. This made her feel unclean, contaminated, even though he'd been interrupted before he could actually do anything. The mere fact that he would have, if Macnair had been just minutes later coming downstairs, was enough to have panic and revulsion rise in her throat all over again.

Realising what was about to happen, she turned quickly to the side, pulling the blanket out of the way before she threw up everything she'd eaten for the past two days - which wasn't a lot. By lucky chance, she'd ended up sitting in the corner nearest the small hole in the floor that served as a toilet. Had circumstances been kinder, she might have laughed at the idea that sitting beside a disgusting prison toilet was considered _lucky_. As it was, she simply coughed and spat down the hole, wiping her mouth on a scrap of her torn shirt and trying not to sob out loud at the agony her throat was experiencing.

Hermione had known it would probably happen at some point, though she had harboured a deep hope that she would be rescued before that. She had seen the looks some of the Death Eaters gave her as she was dragged upstairs; had heard the awful things they said about her when she was lying on the drawing-room floor unable to move. Everyone had heard the stories of muggle-borns and half-bloods seeking favour with the Death Eaters by joining them in bed, but never in a million years would she choose to take that path herself. Despite what the Death Eaters might say, she had more self-respect than that.

There was no way she could sleep now, so instead she curled herself into a tight ball and leaned into the corner between the two walls with the blankets wrapped around her. Even within their warmth, she couldn't stop shaking.

* * *

Nott looked quickly over his shoulder as he walked down the hallway towards Zabini Jr's room. Ever since he took those blankets down to Granger, he felt like someone was watching his every move. He had to do this, though. He needed to know if what he'd heard downstairs was true. Reaching the right door, he knocked briskly and waited.

After a few seconds, he heard footsteps approaching the door and it opened a few inches. Dark slanted eyes regarded him for a moment, then the door was opened wider and he was beckoned inside.

"Afternoon, Nott," Blaise greeted him, gesturing to his dresser. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Nott declined with a shake of his head and sat down on the chair beside the desk. "When did this happen? When did we stop being friends and become 'colleagues'?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "You don't consider me your friend anymore?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what do you mean?" The tall, dark-skinned young man pulled another chair over from beside the dresser and sat down.

Nott rolled his eyes. Blaise could be infuriatingly obtuse sometimes, especially when he wanted to be. "I mean the formality. Since when do you greet me with 'can I offer you a drink'?"

Blaise chuckled. "Since we stopped being schoolchildren, Theo. We have to grow up sometime; why not now, of all times?"

He had a point. Nott sighed and shook his head. "I think I will have that drink, actually."

"Alright." Blaise stood up and poured two glasses of firewhiskey. "To being grown up, whether we like it or not!" he toasted with a grin.

He raised his glass and Nott clinked it with his, returning the smile. "Hear, hear."

"So, was there something you wanted?" Blaise asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not really. I have a few hours off today and wanted to spend them with a friend." Nott paused. "I was wondering if you could clear something up for me, though..."

"Oh?" The dark-skinned man smirked. "What is it?"

"I thought I heard Malfoy threatening to hex Greyback's privates off downstairs. Any particular reason for that?" Theo asked, forcing a laugh. "I'm sure I was hearing things, though."

Blaise shook his head. "No, you heard right. Greyback's on his last chance apparently. Macnair caught him downstairs, trying to have a go at the mudblood. Malfoy already told everyone she was off-limits, but Greyback thought he could be an exception, seeing as Bellatrix said he could have her before the Dark Lord showed up."

Theo took another sip of whiskey to hide his shock. He'd been so sure his ears were deceiving him, so hopeful that he had been wrong. "Lucky Macnair went down when he did," he said finally. "It's bad enough dealing with Greyback in a good mood. I can't imagine castration would improve him much."

Blaise laughed aloud at this. "You're probably right. Don't go poking around, though. Malfoy looked seriously pissed."

He seemed entirely at ease with discussing the potential rape of their former classmate, but Theo knew better. Blaise was merely maintaining the Death Eater persona; unlike Theo, he tended to keep it up even when he was in private or with friends. Inside, he was likely feeling just as sickened as Theo was by what Greyback had tried to do.

Of course, Theo had his own reasons for feeling strongly about Hermione Granger's wellbeing, but there was no way Blaise could know about that.

They finished their drinks, making comfortable small talk, until a Malfoy house-elf popped into existence to tell Blaise his guard duty started at four o'clock - in twenty minutes.

"I suppose that's my cue to leave," Theo said with a smile as the elf disappeared again. "Thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome. It was nice to catch up." Blaise returned the smile as the two of them stood up and Theo walked to the door.

He hesitated in the doorway. "Stay safe, will you?"

"You too."

* * *

Seeing the house-elf upstairs had given Theo a thought. When he arrived back downstairs, he headed towards the kitchens, carefully avoiding crossing the Great Hall where some of the more senior Death Eaters were having a small meeting with Lucius Malfoy to discuss the living arrangements for the newest recruits. Apparently there were family feuds involved, so some members were refusing to lodge near others due to some petty reasons which hadn't been relevant for centuries.

Theo rolled his eyes and walked on until he reached a large oval painting which depicted a busy kitchen with a roaring fire. Reaching out, he touched the painted hearth with the tip of his index finger, wincing as the canvas burned his skin. Draco had told him once that it was designed to stop him sneaking into the kitchens to steal food when he was young. _Not that it stopped him_, Theo thought with a smirk, as the canvas swung inwards and he stepped into the bustling kitchen.

As he entered, about twenty house-elves stopped what they were doing and lined up in front of him, bowing low. One elf wearing a slightly less shabby pillowcase, who appeared to be in charge, stepped forward and spoke in a high-pitched voice.

"How can we be of assistance, Master Nott?"

Theo cleared his throat. "I'm just here to ask if anyone's been in to collect food for the prisoners today."

The elves conferred for a few seconds, then the chief elf shook his (or her) head. "Nobody has been here today, sir. Do you need some food made up, sir?"

"Yes. The same as always, nothing special." Theo wished he could take whatever he wanted down to her - or even better, whatever she wanted. But there was no way he could take the risk. If he was intercepted by anyone on the way down to the dungeons and anything was out of the ordinary, he'd find himself under Bellatrix's blade before anyone could say 'Crucio'.

Within five minutes, a tray bearing two plates and two jugs of water was thrust into his hands. On the plates were the usual pieces of dry bread, slices of slightly brown apple and small bowls of cold vegetable stew. He'd only been able to get her the butter by stashing a slice from his own dinner in his pocket the day before and swapping the bread once he was in the cellar; too much of a risk to do too often. As he left the kitchen, he got the distinct impression that the elves were trying to get rid of him. Possibly they just didn't like wizards very much, but with masters like the Malfoys he couldn't really blame them.

As it turned out, his journey to the dungeons was entirely uneventful. He hesitated at the main door, unsure of what he would find downstairs. He was fairly accustomed to women crying - his father was not a good husband - but he felt more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of a traumatised girl his own age, sobbing in front of him. The food wouldn't get to them by itself, though, and neither prisoner had been fed all day.

That settled it. He tapped the door with his wand and lit the lantern hanging on the wall. The magical seals unlocked and he pushed it open, walking carefully down the stairs with the lantern hooked onto his finger under a plate. Hermione wasn't crying when he walked up to her cell, but when he saw her face he almost wished she was. This was far worse.

Her clothes had been ripped, her shirt barely recognisable as clothing. She'd managed to knot it at the front so it just about covered her chest, but by normal standards it was unwearable. Her jeans appeared to be intact, he noticed with some relief. The girl herself looked like a ghost. Her skin was pale as chalk, her eyes wide as saucers as they stared straight at him. From where she was huddled in the corner of the cell, as far from the door as possible, he could see her visibly shaking, but he doubted it was from the cold. Relief filled her wide eyes when she saw it was him unlocking the door, but it was marred by the terror and pain still present all over her face.

"I, uh, brought you something to eat," he offered, holding out the plate. She cringed away from him and he froze, then set the food down on the floor in the middle of the cell and retreated to the other corner. "I'll stay over here if you want?"

She didn't reply, but reached out slowly and inched her way painfully across the floor until she could pull the plate towards her, all the while staring right at him like a frightened animal. Picking up a small piece of apple, she nibbled it briefly and swallowed with difficulty. He saw the bruising around her throat and ground his teeth.

_Greyback, I will kill you,_ he vowed silently, but was distracted completely by Hermione throwing herself sideways and retching into the hole in the floor. Instinctively, Theo ran forwards and held her hair back out of her face, rubbing her back slowly with his other hand until the shuddering subsided somewhat. Her skin was freezing cold under his hand and he tried to ignore how soft and smooth it felt under his fingers. When she stopped coughing and turned around a little, he moved to sit beside her, still rubbing her back and smoothing her hair over her shoulder. He didn't realise what he was doing until a cold hand closed over his own.

"Did you...did you hear..." she whispered, her battered throat burning with the effort.

He nodded. "I hoped it was just a rumour, but..."

"He tried to...he..." Hermione broke off and, to Theo's horror, tears started to spill over her bruised, filthy cheeks. He thought he heard her say "I'm sorry" before she shuddered and slumped against him, sobbing openly.

Theo only hesitated for a second, before putting his arms around her properly and holding her tight while she cried. Her tiny, frail body felt so breakable in his arms. As she sobbed, an intense rage welled up inside Theo, furious that anything had been allowed to hurt this girl. She was special, meant to be cared for and treasured, not locked away in the darkness and damaged, perhaps beyond repair. And she had nothing to be sorry for.

* * *

**I hope this chapter wasn't too distressing for anyone :S I don't really know what inspired me to put that it, it's not usually my style, but the story just got away from me a little. You understand, right?  
**

**That was a longer chapter than the last two, but as there was a LOT going on, there wasn't much I can do about it. I'd love to hear if anyone has any preferences about chapter length, or if you're happy for me to just see how it goes...?**

**Anyway, I hope you...not necessarily _liked_, but can appreciate the work that went into this chapter. Please review and TELL ME! I want to know! **

**Thanks for reading :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another update! I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far - it certainly looks that way, judging from the traffic (OVER 70 READERS, WOW!). I'd like to say a huge THANK YOU to my three so-far reviewers: **buttercup88**, **gus'hazelgrace **and ** **- you're all fantastic and I'm so grateful for your feedback! It really makes my day and gives me so much motivation to write more for you guys to read. I also want to thank everyone who has followed and favourited this story - your support means the world.  
**

**Now maybe if some of the other 70 people reading this would put in a word or two about what they think, that would be amazing :)**

**Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy!**

**TRIGGER WARNING: continued references to the *ahem* events of last chapter. Just a heads up. **

* * *

Hermione's sobs finally diminished to the occasional whimper and she managed to stop shuddering quite so violently. This was a relief, as her muscles still weren't fully recovered from the intense trauma of the last couple of days. She still felt a little sick but that might also have been due to not having eaten anything for over twelve hours. Eating then throwing up straight away didn't count.

Something warm rubbed across her spine. With a jolt, she realised she was still in Nott's arms. He'd held her close and rubbed her back while she cried, giving her the only bit of comfort she'd had since she arrived here. Well, she supposed the blankets counted but they weren't the same as the comfort of another person. She smiled slightly, turned her head slowly to look up at him.

Nott's eyes widened as he met hers, both of them suddenly realising their faces were only inches apart. Not only that, but she was wearing very little clothing and his hand was resting on the skin of her bare back. Warning bells started ringing loudly in his head. Moving away as quickly as he could without hurting her, he extracted his arm from around her and stood up.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... Especially when..." He broke off, looking worried.

Hermione realised what was wrong. He thought she would be upset by the contact after what Greyback had done. She shook her head slightly, unable to move it further because of the bruises. She supposed she should have been upset by it, but in the circumstances, it was a sweet thing to do and it had made her feel a little better. "It's okay. Thank you for...making it feel okay for a while."

Theo nodded, looking unsure about what to do next. Hermione took a deep breath. "Do you have to go now? Or do you...want to stay for a bit?"

The boy shuffled his feet for a moment, then walked back over to the door and opened it. "I can stay for a while," he said, picking up another plate and water jug. "Just got to do this, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Hermione watched him put the food down, staring intently into the darkness of the cell in the hopes of seeing the other prisoner. No luck though; they must have been outside of the circle of wandlight Nott was casting as he set the food and water down, then left the cell and relocked the door.

She picked up the piece of apple she'd started to eat earlier and tried again. The feeling of food hitting her stomach made it churn but she told herself she'd feel better for it later. The juice of the apple made her chapped lips sting but it tasted healthy and that was what mattered. While she chewed, she pulled the invisible blankets over her legs to try and warm herself up a bit.

Swallowing the apple was extremely painful, even with small well-chewed bites. She touched her neck with her free hand to find it as swollen and inflamed, if not more so, as it had been earlier. _I guess it has to get worse before it gets better,_ she thought resignedly, taking another small bite.

Theo locked the other cell and returned to hers, but stayed outside the bars this time. Bizarrely, this made Hermione feel a little hurt, but she supposed that it was for the best. At least if anyone came down, he could say he was on his way back upstairs, not fraternising with the mudblood.

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring anything nice for you today," he said apologetically, gesturing at the food. "The elves were watching too closely."

Hermione caught her breath, eyes wide with shock. They had _house-elves_ making her food? But then, she supposed, who else would do it? It wasn't as if any of the Death Eaters would stoop so low as to prepare food for themselves, much less for scum like her. She had wondered for the first week or so why they didn't have elves bringing her food, but she'd quickly realised that the horrible things in her food would be easier to add if the Death Eaters brought it down themselves.

The part of her that had come up with SPEW wanted to cry that she was still being served food that was made through slave labour. The rest of her wanted to complain about the fact that the slave labour wasn't producing very palatable results.

"I do have some good news for you, though," he added, speaking quickly to try and improve the expression of shock and distaste on her face.

"What is it?" she said, listlessly picking at another piece of apple. It was sad that, though apples were once her favourite fruit, she knew she'd never be able to eat another one if she ever got out of here.

"The mad bitch has been called away on a mission. Could be away for as long as a week." Theo paused and Hermione frowned, trying to work out what he meant.

Then it clicked. "You mean," she asked slowly, eyes widening, "that Bellatrix isn't here to torture me?"

Theo nodded with a smile. "That's right. Until she gets back, everyone in the manor is under orders to leave you alone. Except for meals, of course."

Hermione couldn't help it; despite the stinging pain in her damaged lips, her mouth curved upwards into a wide grin. That was something she never thought she'd get - a break from the torture. After weeks of daily exposure to Bellatrix's cruelty, it felt like a dream. Any moment now, she'd wake up and find it all to be make-believe, with Bellatrix standing over her.

"And as if that wasn't good enough news," Theo added, "you might be pleased to know that Greyback has been threatened with castration if he can't keep his hands to himself. Lucius Malfoy himself said it and he doesn't go back on his threats."

Hermione's smile faltered at the mention of Greyback. "So if he tries to...again..."

"With anyone. Not just you. He's got a bit of a reputation with...well, basically anything with tits and a heartbeat, to be honest." Theo laughed and Hermione couldn't help but join in, albeit a little weakly due to her throat. There was just something about the way he talked to her that made it almost possible to pretend that she wasn't in a dark, damp dungeon underneath a mansion filled with Death Eaters. This felt like she was just having a normal conversation with a friend, somewhere like The Three Broomsticks or the Gryffindor common room.

Almost like being back with Harry and Ron.

She bit her lip, too hard, and felt the skin tear as the warmth of blood ran over her chin. "Damn," she muttered, grabbing a scrap of torn shirt to staunch the bleeding.

"What happened?" Theo asked, sounding concerned.

"It's nothing." Hermione pressed the fabric to her lip, ignoring the pain. "It'll stop soon."

"Okay..." He didn't sound convinced but nodded and left it at that. Checking his watch, he heaved a sigh. "I should probably go back up soon, anyway."

"Oh." Hermione squeezed the fabric tightly in her hand. _He had to go sooner or later_, she told herself sternly. "Alright."

"I...I don't know if I'll be back for a few days. I might be given a mission tomorrow, depending on how many they need to go. I don't know how long I'll be away." He grimaced, looking apologetic. "Will...will you be alright?"

It was such a strange question to hear in such a place that Hermione didn't quite understand it the first time. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you will be alright," Theo repeated himself quickly, looking away while he waited for her response.

She didn't know what to say. It felt like forever since anyone had asked her anything like that. "Um, I imagine so. Especially if B-Bellatrix is gone," she said eventually, hating herself for stammering over the name. _Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself, _she scolded herself.

He nodded once and started to turn away. "I have to go."

"Goodbye, Theo. Be safe," she said softly. In the dim light, it looked like his face was flushed, but it was difficult to tell. He didn't turn around but she heard him say "Goodbye, Hermione," before he disappeared, taking the wandlight with him.

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, slipping down her cheeks silently as he left. She hadn't realised just how much she needed Nott, or how much of an effect his company had on her. She needed that little dose of normality to offset the insanity that threatened to overwhelm her every day she was still here. He was her only reminder that there was still some kindness left in the world, that the universe wasn't run only by people like Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Left alone once more, Hermione had the choice of a few trains of thought to occupy her mind. Thinking about Greyback wasn't an option, not if she wanted to keep her food down. Instead she thought back to her conversation with Theo, her lips curving into a small smile without her realising it.

Despite the pangs of fear that rose in her chest when she thought of Greyback, she had to admit it was nice to hear that he'd been threatened with his just desserts. And by Lucius Malfoy, no less. What did Malfoy care if she was raped or not? Unless it was a trick and she was supposed to think she was safe, until the next time Greyback came downstairs with empty hands. She shuddered and bit her lip lightly again, using the slight pain as a distraction.

In the darkness, someone coughed.

The sudden noise made her bite down hard in shock. She winced, tasting blood again. No-one had come down; at least, she hadn't heard or seen anyone come down, and her ears had become particularly sensitive during her time down here in the dark. That meant it had to be...

A voice spoke. "Um...Hello? Is...Is anyone there?"

Hermione took a deep breath, willing her voice not to shake too much. "I-I'm here," she croaked, her damaged throat betraying her.

"Where-" The voice broke off into a coughing fit which ended with an agonised moan.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked urgently (and somewhat pointlessly, as there was nothing she could do to help). She moved closer to the bars and peered into the darkness. To her total lack of surprise, she couldn't see anything, but it made her feel slightly better to try.

"Everything hurts," he - for the voice definitely belonged to a young male - said plaintively.

Hermione winced. This boy had probably suffered the same that she did. "Try not to move too quickly," she advised, going by her own experience.

There was a shuffling noise, followed by a whimper of fear. "What...Why can't I see? I've gone blind!" The pitch of his voice rose with panic.

"No, it's okay," Hermione said quickly, her heart filled with pity and sympathy for the boy. She had felt the exact same way when she'd first woken up in the pitch blackness. "You're not blind. It's just dark down here."

There was a pause. "Are you sure? Maybe you're blind too."

She almost laughed at the childish response, despite the seriousness of the context. "Yes, I'm sure. It's just very dark."

"Oh." There was a sigh, then a rustle accompanied by another moan of pain as the boy tried to move.

"Where does it hurt?" Hermione asked, her protective instincts kicking in.

"M-My head. And my back. And... Everything."

"What's your name?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Did she really want to know?_ What if they're __from the Order? Or someone I knew from school? _

But regardless of whether she wanted to, she needed to know. She needed to have her worst fears disproved.

The boy didn't reply for a moment. Then, he said something entirely unexpected. "I...don't remember."

* * *

The dungeon was filled with stunned silence for several long moments.

"You don't remember your_ name_?" Hermione asked, finally.

"N-No." The boy's breathing speeded up and his voice grew higher. "I don't know who I am!"

"Hey, listen, it's okay," Hermione said quickly. "It's going to be alright." Just platitudes, but what else could she offer, locked away behind iron bars?

"How can it be alright?" the boy snapped back, his voice taking on a sharpness it hadn't had before. "_I don't know who I am!_"

Hermione knew she had to try and calm him down before he hyperventilated. "Please, try to calm down. Why don't you tell me the last thing you _do _remember?" she suggested, trying to give the boy something else to think about.

There was another pause, broken only by the boy's harsh panting as he struggled to keep his panic in check. Then he spoke again. "I remember lots of pain. And a big room, with a hard floor."

Hermione nodded, forgetting he couldn't see her. She knew that room well; it was the setting for almost all of her nightmares these days. "Anything else?" she prompted, hopefully.

Silence for several seconds. Then:

"No. There's nothing else." His voice wobbled at the end, then broke into low sobs.

Hermione tried to calm him down as best she could. When it was clear that her words weren't getting through, she changed tack and did what her mother used to do when she was small. She took a deep breath and started to hum. There wasn't any real tune, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

While she hummed, she searched her memories, trying to put a face to the boy's voice. She was sure she'd heard it before; for someone used to knowing almost everything, it was extremely annoying that she couldn't place him.

"What's your name?" the boy asked suddenly. He sounded much calmer now, to Hermione's relief. She stopped humming and smiled before replying.

"My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Why are you here, Hermione?"

The question threw her. A million answers rose in her throat, but the one that came out was simply: "Because someone wants to create a new world and I don't belong in it."

There was silence for a few seconds. Then the boy said softly, "I don't think I belong, either."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. He sounded so disheartened, so downcast that she wanted desperately to say something to make him feel better. What was there to say, though? 'I'm sorry you were tortured and thrown in here, same as me, but at least we're in it together?' That was both clichéd and very unhelpful.

It really didn't help that neither of them could see each other. If only she had a match or a candle - or better yet, a wand. She'd never been this long without using her wand; it made her feel naked to be without it for so long. Leaning her head against the cold metal bars, she frowned and wished - for the millionth time - that things were different. Wishing that she had a lantern...

_"Are you a witch, or not?"_

The memory of Ron was as painful as it was welcome, but she couldn't afford to dwell on the feelings of abandonment that surged whenever she thought of Ron or Harry. Never before had she been so glad to be the class know-it-all. While it was true that they hadn't spent much time on wandless magic in class, it _had_ been mentioned and she had read up on the theory for hours in the library. She'd even managed to perform a few wandless charms, after days of practice.

"Of course!" she burst out.

"What? You scared me!" the boy said angrily, but Hermione wasn't listening.

_Why didn't I think of this before?_

"Listen, I'm going to do something, but you have to keep quiet while I concentrate, okay?" she said quickly, thinking hard. All of those hours spent practising a concept mentioned only once in lessons would finally pay off. Or so she hoped.

"Fine," the boy said, sulkily. There was a shuffling which suggested he'd moved back from the bars, but Hermione had stopped paying attention to him already.

There was no point in attempting to unlock the cell, she knew; even if she could do it, the effort would leave her exhausted and in her already weakened state she could not hope to survive a full escape attempt, especially not if she wanted to get the other prisoner out too. Instead she focused on a goal she _could_ achieve: creating some light and finding out who she shared the dungeon with.

She closed her eyes, tuning out all other thoughts, ignoring the gentle dripping of water down the walls, concentrating only on the feeling of magic, pulsing inside her with comforting warmth. She had no idea how long she sat there for, but with no way of judging the time anyway this was of no importance.

When she felt sure that she had control over the magic, she switched focus to the outcome she wanted: an effect similar to Lumos, but with light issuing from a point on the ceiling instead of a wand. Opening her eyes, she was a little disappointed, but unsurprised, to find that she still couldn't see. She never did get it right first time; in fact, it was probably the only skill that she didn't despair over if she couldn't master it in a day. This was truly advanced magic, the likes of which very few powerful witches and wizards could boast of. It was an achievement that she could even feel the magic inside her at will; in most people this only occurred at the time of first acquiring one's wand, or upon being reunited with one's wand after an extended time apart.

She sighed, but didn't feel too disheartened. This was, after all, only her first attempt in several months and she was pretty weak right now.

"Nothing's happening," the boy observed. "What are you trying to do?"

"It doesn't matter. When I've got it to work, you'll find out." Hermione smiled. She'd made more progress today than in the last three weeks in total.

"You're mad. I'm sharing a dungeon with a mad person." The boy shuffled around a little and Hermione heard a hiss of pain, then the shuffling stopped.

_Great. My only constant companion for the foreseeable future thinks I'm insane, _ she thought bitterly.

_ And who's to say he's wrong? _her inner voice muttered spitefully.

Her smile fading only slightly, Hermione closed her eyes and tried again.

* * *

**And there it is. Hermione's met someone new and Nott's feelings are getting a little out of hand :S**

**Please leave a review and let me know if you liked this chapter! :D For those of you who don't like to see Hermione being tortured/abused, fear not! The next few chapters will see things change a little for our Golden Girl :)**

**The next update might not be for another week or maybe a little longer, as I've got three uni deadlines this week AND I have to apply for work placements AND I'm moving back home on the weekend... but I'll do my best :) Reviews/favourites/follows will certainly help! :P  
**

**Thanks so much for reading! ^_^**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again :) Sorry for the short break in updates, I hope everyone has been looking forward to the next chapter :P**

**I'm now home from university until after christmas so between coursework and family stuff, I'll have a lot more time to write - so you'll have a lot more to read! :D **

* * *

The plate dropped to the floor with a clatter that made Hermione's already throbbing head pound even harder. Grabbing the small stew bowl, she righted it before all of the stew could tip out over the floor. As the Death Eater (she didn't know his name) turned and started to walk away, she reached out quickly and gathered the scattered apple pieces before the light from the departing lantern could fade completely.

"Where's the..." she muttered desperately, then located the bread out of the corner of her eye. It had almost slid out under the bars but she managed to pinch it between the nails of her thumb and forefinger to drag it back towards her. The light had almost completely gone by then and she realised once again, she'd missed her chance to see the identity of the other prisoner.

_Stupid, stupid!_ she scolded herself. _Every single time..._

So_ easily distracted, like a child_, her inner voice added, sounding so much like her mother that she froze in shock.

_Oh, mum... _She dropped the piece of apple she'd been about to bite into. It landed with a wet squishing sound and she realised she'd dropped it into the bowl of stew.

_Oh well. It'll probably improve the flavour, _she thought distantly, her mind occupied with the parents she hadn't seen in months. She hadn't even had the chance to remove the memory charms she'd placed on them. If she died here, which grew more likely as every day went by, they'd never miss her. They'd go on with their lives in Australia, never knowing they had a daughter called Hermione who loved them very much.

She gulped down a sob, wincing in pain as she did so. Her throat still hurt a lot from...from that. Feeling around in the dark, she picked up a piece of apple and nibbled its edge, ignoring the itchy feeling in the corners of her eyes.

"Um...How long have you been here?"

The boy's question came as a shock. He hadn't spoken to her at all since his apparent decision that she'd lost her mind. Hermione thought for a moment, chewing a small bite of apple slowly.

She swallowed painfully. "I don't know, exactly. At least three weeks, I think. Maybe longer."

"And, um. How long have _I_ been here?" Now he sounded unsure of himself.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. I don't remember you being brought in, but I'm not always...myself, when I come back downstairs."

"Why, what happens upstairs?" He sounded genuinely curious, as if he had no idea what went on in the rooms above.

She blinked in shock. "You...you don't know?"

There was a pause, then he said, "I forget you can't see me shaking my head. No, I don't know."

Hermione was dumbfounded. "Then...you don't remember anything before you woke up down here?"

"No, I told you." Now he sounded defensive, so Hermione backed off a little.

"Fair enough. Sorry." She exhaled sharply. "Well, it's probably best that you don't know what goes on up there, then." She hoped he would take that as enough information and leave the subject alone.

He didn't. "It's not very nice, then? The stuff that goes on up there?"

"No, it isn't," she snapped, unable to help herself.

There was an uncomfortable pause, broken only by the quiet crunching of apple as Hermione bit viciously into another piece. Then the boy said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Hermione exhaled sharply. "It's alright. I just...I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay." There was a soft slurping noise, then a sound of disgust. "This stuff is awful!"

"You get used to it," Hermione said gloomily. "Trust me."

She picked up her bowl and fished around between the soft chunks of cold potato and carrot. Yes, there it was, as she'd expected. She carefully licked the stew off the round head of the drawing pin, avoiding the sharp end, and bounced it lightly on the palm of her hand. As they always did, after several seconds the pin vanished, but not before it dug itself into her hand, drawing blood.

"Ow!" she yelped, sucking the offended hand.

"What happened?"

"Um, the pin bit me," she said sheepishly, her voice muffled by the hand in her mouth.

"Sorry, what?" he asked in confusion.

"Sometimes they like to put things in my food. Stuff like broken glass, stones, ash. Today it's drawing pins." She fished out another one and threw it across the cell before it could mimic its predecessor.

"That's horrible!"

She chuckled mirthlessly, digging for another pin. "They really don't like me here. But I know what to look out for, now."

"I heard what that man said to you, when he gave you your food," the boy continued. "Who's 'Greyback'?"

Hermione caught her breath, involuntarily clenching her hand. The pin she held dug painfully into her palm, but she ignored it. "He's...no-one that you ever want to meet. Ever."

She hoped her voice carried the tone of 'leave it alone' that she intended. It seemed to work, because the boy fell silent again for several minutes, giving Hermione time to reassert control over her breathing and lower her heart rate.

She fished out what felt like the last pin, felt around cautiously just in case, then tipped the bowl into her mouth, gulping down the nutritious stew. It was like drinking slime as it slipped down her throat, but it quieted her churning stomach for a while and that was all that mattered.

"Are you going to try that thing again?" the boy asked.

"I think so. It won't work unless I keep trying." She set the bowl down and ripped the bread in half, nibbling along the edge. Nothing nasty on that or the apple, she'd been pleased to find.

It struck her as a little sad that _not_ finding something horrible in her food now counted as an unusual and good experience. Before her imprisonment she'd taken so much for granted; she vowed every day that if she got out, she'd never do it again.

After she'd eaten half of her food, she asked the boy to keep quiet again and closed her eyes to concentrate. This time, it was easier to feel the magic, almost as if it actually _wanted_ to help her. She supposed that must be somewhat true, as a person's magic was tied closely to their own needs and wants. Breathing deeply and evenly, she focused as hard as she could on directing the magic where she wanted it, without the use of a wand to guide it.

* * *

Half an hour later, Hermione leaned back against the bars of the cell, wiping sweat from her forehead. She felt exhausted, as if she'd just run a marathon with weights around her ankles. Every muscle and joint ached from sitting so still and the cold seeping up from the floor certainly didn't help matters. The worst part of it was that all of her efforts were still coming to nothing. She hadn't even managed to create a dim glow, let alone a light bright enough to illuminate the whole cell.

More than a little disappointed, she put her face in her hands and groaned. "This is useless!"

"What is?"

She jumped slightly; in her concentration, she'd almost forgotten that she wasn't alone. "Um, never mind."

"...Okay." There was a silence.

_Great, now he _really _thinks I'm crazy._ Hermione rolled her eyes. "So, how are you feeling today?"

"Still in prison with awful food and in lots of pain. How about you?" His tone was sarcastic and not a little bitter, but Hermione couldn't really blame him for that. It was one thing to know why you were imprisoned, whether fair or not; it was quite another to be held captive and tortured for reasons completely unknown.

"About the same."

"Hmm," he responded neutrally. Then: "Is your thing working yet?"

Hermione thought she caught a glimmer of hope in the boy's tone. _Perhaps he doesn't think I'm completely insane!_ she thought with a grin. "Uh, not yet. I'm making some progress, though."

"Glad to hear it. Anything's better than sitting doing nothing, especially down here."

So he was just as bored as she was. Although she usually had plenty to think about, Hermione had often found herself going over the scripts of her favourite films, or trying to imagine the plot of a book she might write someday, just to kill the boredom and take her mind off things.

"It's a shame they didn't give us a deck of cards or something," he added after a moment. "Not that we could see them, of course."

"Or reach through far enough to play anything," Hermione said.

"True." The boy paused again. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Is everyone here...like that?"

She knew exactly what he meant. "Um, most of them, yeah."

"Not all?"

He was perceptive, she'd give him that. She sighed. "No, not all of them. There's one who has been kind to me."

The boy seemed to be considering this. "Was he your friend or something? Before this, I mean."

Hermione almost laughed at the thought. "No, not at all. We'd never even spoken before I was locked up in here."

"What's his name?"

"Theo Nott." Hermione frowned. "Why are you asking?"

"I...I just wondered, that's all." He stopped talking and Hermione wondered if he thought he'd gone too far and upset her again. Maybe he just hadn't had anyone to really talk to before.

"I think he might be the closest thing I have to a friend right now," she admitted, to break the silence.

"Don't you have friends outside this place?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione hadn't expected that. For several long moments, her mind whirled through memories of Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Neville, even Crookshanks. _Do I have any friends outside? Do they even care that I'm here?_

She realised that tears were filling her eyes again. Silently rubbing them away, she cleared her throat and replied, "I do, but they aren't here right now. So he's the best I've got."

There was a pause. "I'm sorry if I upset you. Again."

"It's okay."

Silence filled the dungeon for at least two whole minutes. It was just starting to get uncomfortable when Hermione came to a decision. Nibbling the tip of her thumb lightly, she said hesitantly, "Do you want to be my friend?"

"I don't know...I never had a real friend before." His voice sounded very unsure and Hermione's heart clenched in sympathy. She supposed that, even though he might have had friends before this, if he didn't remember them they didn't really exist. Not for him, anyway. Nothing existed for him beyond the drawing room and the dungeon.

_And I thought my life was terrible. _

She felt her eyes starting to brim with tears again. How awful it must be, to be stuck in this place without even the comfort of good memories to keep you going. She'd been viewing her memories as a curse when she should have called them a blessing. Even if the blessing came with heartache and bitterness, it had to be better than nothing at all. Not even a name to call yourself.

The boy coughed, drawing Hermione's attention back to the present. "Um...Would you be _my_ friend, Hermione?"

It was obvious he'd been building up to asking it, but she didn't reply straight away. She'd never been asked that question before. When she'd gone to school, in the muggle world, other students would choose to sit somewhere else in classes or in the lunch hall because they thought she was weird, just for being clever. Even when she started at Hogwarts, she'd immediately become the class 'know-it-all', mocked by students and teachers alike for having the right answer every time. Most of her friendships weren't actually built on people wanting to know _her_ as a person; they just sort of happened, if someone needed help with their homework or practice for an exam.

"Of course I'll be your friend," she replied, after taking a moment to compose herself. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in tears over this. That would give the boy the complete wrong impression of her sanity; she didn't want to lose her friend as soon as she got him, just because he thought she was cuckoo. She was perfectly sane; one could even say remarkably so, given what she'd been through.

The next couple of words were spoken so softly, Hermione wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "Thank you."

In case she wasn't actually supposed to hear that, Hermione coughed and tried to change the subject to something a little lighter. "If it wasn't so dark, we could play I Spy," she said, with a half-hearted chuckle.

There was a pause. "What's 'eye spy'?"

"It's a muggle game. You tell people the first letter of something you can see around you, and they have to try and guess what it is."

"Oh. Well, there isn't much choice down here," the boy observed drily. "How many words are there for 'dark'?"

They both laughed at this. The sound echoed off the walls and, for a moment, they felt like things might be alright eventually. They weren't alone anymore. They had each other, now.

* * *

_This is not good. This is NOT GOOD._

Theo paced the floor of his room, his hands clenched together behind his back so tightly that his knuckles ached. He ignored the pain, his mind occupied with the words of that awful conversation spiralling around inside it. He wished he somehow drown them out or, better yet, scrub the words from his brain, as if he'd never heard them in the first place...

_"Back so soon, Bella?" The Dark Lord's cold voice echoed off the walls of his throne room (previously the Malfoys' ballroom). _

_ "You didn't expect me to be away from you too long, did you, my Lord?" Bellatrix simpered. _

_ "I am pleased with the results you provided, Bella, but I must request another favour of you. You will leave in the morning. An elf will bring the details to you later tonight."_

_ "Of course, my Lord."_

_ "Now, are you still enjoying your last reward, or must I provide something new to entertain you?" Now it sounded like he was smiling. _

_ "I do begin to tire of its whimpering, my Lord. Perhaps a new one, not so damaged?" _

_ From his vantage point in the shadows on the upstairs landing, Theo ground his teeth silently. How could they talk about human life as so...disposable?_

_ "Very well. Some of my other Death Eaters have made use of the other mudbloods serving here. Take your pick on your return, my sweet. None shall refuse your choice." _

_ "Thank you, my Lord. What shall I do with the one downstairs?" _

_ "Do what you wish with it, Bella. Kill it, if that is your wish. Only make it quick, or do it when you return from your mission." _

_"Thank you, my Lord. I think I will let it live, for now." _

And that was what had Theo was now pacing his floor, feet moving at such a pace that they were probably wearing a thin patch in the carpet. She was going to _kill_ Hermione? He'd been so sure they would keep her alive as a bargaining chip against Potter and his crew. Potter's hero-complex would surely not allow the death of his best friend, not when he could offer himself up instead.

Then again, there had been no word from any Death Eater scouts or intelligence to suggest that the Order was launching any sort of rescue mission or counter-attack. They appeared to have given her up for dead.

For some reason, that made Theo even angrier. How could they just abandon her like that? If they had any idea what she was going through in this place, they'd be behaving very differently right now, that he was certain of.

He stopped pacing and walked over to the window, twitching the curtain aside. Through the evening mist, he saw the tall, slim figure of Blaise walking across the flagstones of the courtyard, rubbing his arms in the cold air. Hours before, Theo had felt lucky that he hadn't drawn evening watch today, as the first frosts were predicted to hit Wiltshire this week. Now, he wished he'd been outside in the cold all day. He'd stay out there all night if it meant that what he'd heard wasn't true.

He had to stop it. He had to get her out, save her somehow. He couldn't let her die, not sweet Hermione. Never _his_ Hermione, but that didn't matter anymore. She had to get out, to live a life free from pain and fear and suffering. It was too late for him, but she had so much left to live for.

* * *

Half an hour, three almost-heart-attacks and one powerful Confundus charm later, Theo was locked back inside his bedroom, clutching a copy of one of Malfoy's files. This one happened to hold everything the Death Eaters knew about the movements of the Order of the Phoenix. Thanking any god that happened to be listening for Goyle's slow wits (as this reduced the likelihood that his Confundus charm would be detected) he opened the file and scanned the pages for any Order movements in the area of Wiltshire or surrounding counties.

It only occurred to him later that what he was doing was a hundred times worse than treason and would almost definitely get him killed.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :)**** Please write a review to tell me what you thought!  
**

******This story has more readers than I've ever had in total on my other five stories, so WOW. Thanks guys! :D**

******I'll try and update again in about a week, maybe a little earlier if I can get the chapter edited quickly.**

******See ya! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Merry almost-Christmas, everyone! :D Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story - you guys are fantastic! :D (I'll do proper thanks in the next chapter, I promise ^_^)  
**

**I thought, since it's bound to be a bit hectic over the next few days, I'd post an update before Christmas. Think of it as an early present, if you like :) **

**I haven't posted a disclaimed in a while, so here you go: I do not own the characters, or the past storyline mentioned in this story. Only Lucy and the events following Hermione, Draco and Theo are my own.**

**ALSO just a note: Earlier on ****today **I published a one-shot based on the Hobbit and I'd love to get some feedback so if anyone's interested, look for it on my profile - it's called 'The Old Ways'. Thanks! :)

**Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy!**

* * *

_I'm going insane. It's finally happening. _

Hermione paced the width of her cell (three paces) over and over, shaking her head repeatedly as she walked. She didn't understand what was happening to her.

She'd woken up that morning (or what passed for morning when there was no daylight) with painfully bruised arms, freshly bleeding bite marks on her lips and several clumps of her own hair wrapped around her fingers. All recent, she knew. The bruises felt fresh and she could still feel the blood flowing from the bites. Nott had told her Bellatrix wouldn't be back for several days. Had he lied to her? Or had Bellatrix come back early and started the torture again? She didn't understand. Surely she would have remembered being taken upstairs last night.

Or would she? Maybe they'd decided to modify her memory after the torture was over so she'd think she was going insane when she woke up. Yes, that sounded like the sort of thing they would do.

She could always ask the other prisoner, she supposed. He'd know for sure if something had happened to her in the night. He would have seen her being taken upstairs. Maybe she should-

_No. Don't say a word. He'll think you're insane. He probably already does._

_ Shut up! I'm not insane!_

_ Says the girl currently talking to herself. _

Hermione resurfaced with a scowl. _I'm not going mad. I'm NOT. _

"Good morning. I think."

The boy's voice made her jump, her teeth catching her newly torn bottom lip. She stopped pacing and caught her breath, willing herself not to whimper in case he heard. When she could be sure her voice wouldn't betray her, she replied, "Morning."

"Are you alright? You were making strange noises a little while ago."

Hermione thought frantically. _Can't tell him the truth. Say something believable. _"Um," she managed finally, "bad dream. I'm fine."

"Okay." He left it at that and she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Hermione didn't want to think about what the new bruises and bites meant. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "I think I'm going to try again today. Wish me luck?"

The boy chuckled mirthlessly. "Good luck, Hermione."

It was pretty damned obvious from his tone that he didn't think she was actually going to do anything. If she was honest with herself, she didn't think she could do it, either. She still had to try, though. She had to be sure.

As it did the second time, the magic responded to her more easily, almost as if it had been waiting for her to give it instructions. She felt more powerful than she had since she had first arrived at the manor. This was possibly due to the fact that this was the first 24 hour stretch she'd gone without being tortured to within an inch of her life. Whatever the reason, Hermione wasn't about to waste it. Flexing her fingers, she pointed at the floor between the two cells and focused. Her head started to hurt but she pushed through it, focusing harder than she'd ever done before and willing the magic to do as she instructed.

She didn't have long to wait.

Both she and the other prisoner cried out in shock as a small spot of white light suddenly sprang into life on the damp stone floor, growing slowly brighter. Hermione raised a hand to shield her eyes from the brightness, squinting into the cell opposite through her fingers. She was unsure about who she expected to see. Would she recognise them? Did she want to? Her heart was pounding with an unpleasant mix of anticipation and terror.

When the boy finally lowered his hands from his face, she stared for a few seconds, then slumped against the bars, relief flooding through her body. She didn't know him. It wasn't Harry, or Neville, or any of the Weasleys. She'd never even seen him at school.

He appeared to be about her age, maybe a little younger. His skin looked pale, but that was probably due to the paleness of the light that illuminated it. He looked like he would be of average height if he was standing upright, with a fairly slim frame, although it was impossible to know if that was his natural shape or a result of his treatment here. He had brown hair that was cut fairly short (as far as she could see through the blood plastering it to his head) and a round face with wide, dark eyes. His mouth was open in obvious amazement as he stared back at her. The expression reminded her forcibly of Neville, every time he'd managed to perform a spell correctly in class. She bit her tongue to keep from giggling at the image.

"How did you do that?" he burst out suddenly. Gripping the bars in white-knuckled hands, he dragged himself closer, gazing at her in rapturous excitement. "You don't have a wand, do you?"

"No, I don't. I learned how to do magic without one. Just in case." Hermione smiled at the wonder on his face, but it faltered slightly as a wave of fatigue washed over her. It was a draining business, wandless magic. She had no idea how long she could keep it up or whether she'd be able to do it again any time soon.

For now, it was enough just to know that the person in the cell opposite was not one of her old classmates, or a member of the Order like herself. It didn't make the circumstances themselves any more comfortable, but at least she could believe her friends were safe. She wondered if he was a muggleborn

_mudblood_

like her, or whether he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, like so many others during this stupid, pointless war.

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed. "I didn't even know it was possible to do magic without a wand. Can you...get us out of here?" he added, looking hopefully through the bars at her.

Her smile faded as he spoke. "No, I'm sorry. I'm not strong enough to do that."

The boy looked disappointed for just a moment, then recovered and smiled. "At least we both know what we each look like now. It's better than talking to a faceless stranger."

"I know what you mean."

"Do you..." He stopped, looking worried. "Do you know who I am?"

She'd been dreading the question, but it had to come up at some point. "No, I don't. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright. I didn't really expect you to. I just hoped-" He cut off with a gulp and turned away.

The light flickered and Hermione realised she couldn't maintain the stream of magic for much longer. Not if she wanted any hope of being able to do it again within the next month.

"I have to stop the spell soon," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. This is amazing. I'm glad I got to see what you look like, Hermione. My friend Hermione." He looked so proud of that last fact that Hermione's eyes started to tingle in the corners. She pretended to cough in order to wipe her eyes discreetly and look back up at him.

"I'm glad you're my friend, too," she replied. "Wandless magic is definitely the most tiring thing I've ever done, but it was definitely worth it."

She saw the boy grin at her last comment, just before the light went out and plunged them both back into darkness.

* * *

"I volunteer myself for this mission, my Lord." Theo spoke firmly and clearly, his voice echoing around the silent ballroom.

Every head in the room turned to stare at him as he stood up. Inside, he quailed at the incredulous (and, in some cases, downright venomous) looks that some of the other Death Eaters were giving him, but he stood firm and focused his attention on the occupant of the throne at the head of the council table.

The Dark Lord regarded him silently for several seconds, his red eyes scanning the boy's face for falsehood or ulterior motives. Finally, just as Theo was starting to feel really unnerved, he spoke. "Why such enthusiasm now, young master Nott? You never seemed eager to serve in the field before. What has changed?"

"I...I want to serve you, my Lord. I have realised that I have been...remiss in my duties. I wish to rectify this mistake." Theo forced his expression to remain as blank and dutiful as possible.

"He's just a whelp," Greyback snarled. "Send a more experienced man, my Lord."

A murmur of assent ran around the table and Theo's heart sank. He had to be chosen for this; it was his only chance! He was only grateful Bellatrix was still absent. He would have had no chance of being chosen for a solo mission if the Dark Lord's favourite had been a potential candidate. Trust Greyback to try and screw this up for him, he thought bitterly.

"I say give the boy a chance."

He looked round sharply to see Severus Snape's black eyes watching him. The man inclined his head once and Theo mimicked the gesture.

"On what grounds, Snape? Because he got an 'O' in potions?" Alecto Carrow sneered from the other side of the table.

The Dark Lord stood up. "Silence. All must play their part and young Nott has a role as great as any of yours. Besides, it is not a particularly taxing task. I am sure he is more then capable." He turned his head to stare directly at Theo. "Do well in this and you will be rewarded beyond all your dreams. Fail me and you will suffer the consequences."

"I understand, my Lord." Theo nodded once and the Dark Lord gave a satisfied smile.

"Very well. Leave when you are ready. Do not return without the blood-traitor's head."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

A loud 'crack' echoed in a silence broken only by the pattering of rain. Theo scowled and drew up the hood of his cloak, before he was soaked. Another 'crack' sent him darting into the shadows as another figure Apparated into the centre of the courtyard. Whoever they were, they were confident, he noted. Apparating into the centre of an open space opened up all directions as potential attack points. Unless they were sure this location was safe; in that case, there was likely an informant in the ranks since the Death Eaters knew all about it.

He leaned against the wall, turning his head slowly to watch the figure's progress across the courtyard. Rain dripped from the edge of his hood and seeped into his shoes, but he ignored the unpleasant dampness. He'd never thought he'd be grateful for a mission to the rain-drenched back-arse of nowhere, but in this case the isolation was essential for his plan to succeed.

He stared through the rain as the tall, slim figure pushed back a dark hood to reveal a sweep of long pale hair. For one heart stopping second, he thought it was Lucius Malfoy, but a definitely feminine face and the figure visible under the cloak made it obvious at second glance that she was a girl. She drew her wand and looked around furtively, then put it away again. Apparently confident that she was alone, she turned and entered one of the buildings.

This was his only chance and he had to get it right first time. Heart pounding, Theo ran silently towards the doorway.

Moments later, he stood beside the prone figure of Luna Lovegood, who was firmly trussed up in magical ropes that wound from her ankles right up to her chin and covered her mouth. He picked her wand up from where it had rolled in the brief scuffle. Blue eyes glared at him from a pale, stoic face as he adjusted the ropes to allow her to talk.

"Theodore Nott," she said softly.

"How do you- Never mind, it's not important. I have a message for your leader, Potter." He let that sink in and waited for a response.

"What do you want with Harry?" Lovegood demanded, her usually airy-fairy voice sharper than he'd ever heard it. Not that he'd spent much time listening to what Loony Lovegood had to say.

"It's about his so-called best friend, Granger. She's in deep trouble."

Lovegood looked like she was about to say something, but no words came out. Her eyes widened and for a few moments she was frozen. Then she whispered, "Hermione's _alive_?"

He nodded. "But not for long, unless you people help me get her out."

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" she said suddenly, staring intently into his eyes as though daring him to lie to her.

Theo had already prepared for this question. "I can get some Veritaserum and I'm willing to undergo Legilimency to prove it's true. It needs to be soon, though. She's only guaranteed to live until Bellatrix gets back from her mission. That could be any day from now onwards. Meanwhile..."

He reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of dark liquid. "I'm sure you're smart enough to work out what this is. There are lots of very nasty things you can do to me with that."

Lovegood's eyes were wide and shocked, so he guessed she understood the gravity of what he was giving her.

"I give the Order my permission to use this, if it turns out that this is a trick. I can assure you that it's not."

The girl nodded, as best she could while tied up. "I'll bring Harry here tomorrow night, at midnight. Now let me go."

"Make sure it's clear before you come in. The Death Eaters know about this place."

"We know." She watched his expression shift from shock to understanding. The informant wasn't with the Death Eaters, then. _Not my problem, though._

He raised his wand, then paused and pointed it at her face. "No tricks. Just you and Potter, or I'm out of here and Granger dies. You'll never find her without my help."

"I understand. No tricks." She nodded again and he could see she meant it. _She must really care about Hermione_, he thought with a pang of mixed jealousy and anger. If these people cared so much, why did they leave her? He'd taken the best care of her that he could - given the circumstances - but what would he get at the end of this? A stint in Azkaban, if he was lucky. A snogging session with a Dementor, if he wasn't.

He realised she was waiting for him to do something.

"Alright." He cut the ropes and handed her wand back with the vial of his blood, keeping his wand trained between her eyes.

Then he remembered. "Wait," he said quickly. _Idiot, how could you forget?_

"Um, the Dark Lord is expecting me to bring back proof of your death. You were my mission." He didn't need to spell it out for her. If he failed now, their hope of rescuing Hermione went out of the window.

She appeared to have expected this. Raising her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes, she smiled enigmatically. "Then," she said calmly, "you're going to have to kill me."

* * *

Hermione whimpered and clenched her fists so tightly that blood started to seep from the nail-marks in her palms. She lay sprawled on the hard stone, the invisible blankets wrapped around her legs. Shivering violently, she turned over, hands reaching blindly for someone, something, anything...

_Rain hammers the sides of the tent percussively, making it difficult to think straight over the noise. My eyes are swimming with tears, but through the blurs I can make out one shape as clear as day. His bright blue eyes are dark with anger under his bright red hair as he glares right at me. It's all my fault, I know this now, and he's telling me with his eyes. _

_ "Fine. Looks like you don't need me around, then. Good luck with finding the other horcruxes and the whole You-Know-Who thing." _

_ The tent flap swings shut and he's gone. _

_He's gone. _

_ "Ron! Ron, come back!" I scream, trying to run after him, but my feet are stuck firmly to the ground beneath. _

_ "He's right. You're the clever one, Hermione. You'll figure it out."_

_ I turn to stare at Harry, who stares right back with those same eyes, those terribly angry eyes. _

_ I see it now. It is all my fault. I made Ron leave. I did that. My fault. _

_ "Harry? Harry. Don't go, please, Harry," I beg, pleading with him as he turns away from me. He doesn't hear or, if he does, he ignores me. The tent flap swings shut for a second time. I am alone. _

_ "Come back!" I'm screaming to the empty tent, but nobody comes back. Nobody answers me, except the never-ending rain. _

_ Suddenly, my feet are free from the ground that held them down. I sprint to the tent-flap, throwing it open and falling out of the tent in my desperation. "Ron! Harry! Come back!" _

_ My hand flies out in front of me to break my fall and I land heavily on the ground. The rain patters down on the leaves around me, slowly soaking my clothes, but I can't bring myself to get up. They've gone and it's all my fault. _

_ Footsteps suddenly fill my hearing, crunching and squelching over the sodden dead leaves that cover the forest floor. I try to raise my head, to see which of them came back to me. _

_ A heeled boot stamps down on my outstretched hand and I feel the bones of my fingers break. A strangled scream escapes my throat and I roll over, staring into the black eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. _

"Hermione!"

_"Poor little Hermione..." the witch coos mockingly. "Where did they go?"_

"Hermione! Wake up!"

"No...Leave me alone!"

She opened her eyes with a shriek and sat up abruptly, throwing herself backwards. Her back slammed hard into the wall of the cell and she cried out as pain arced through her shoulders and neck.

"Hermione!"

She realised someone was shouting at her. The boy was hammering on the bars of his cell and sounded like he was crying.

"I'm alri-" she started, then broke into a coughing fit, her throat dry as parchment. When they finally abated, she tried again. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you?" the boy replied, his voice thick with emotion. "You sounded like you were being killed. I thought-"

He cut off and Hermione realised what he must have thought.

"It was just a bad dream. I'm sorry if I scared you." She spoke gently, trying to help him calm down.

He sniffled and coughed self-consciously. "Are you sure? It must have been awful for you to make that much noise."

Hermione winced. "It was. But I'm fine, I promise," she lied smoothly, praying that he'd stop asking.

For once, he seemed to take her words at face value and fell silent. She leaned back against the wall, wincing as the pressure aggravated her bruised shoulders, and felt along her arms with her hands to assess the damage she had undoubtedly done in her sleep. The bruises felt worse than that morning, but bruises tended to get worse before they got better, she knew. It was impossible to tell if she'd made them worse.

What worried her more were the deep scratches, running from the inside of her elbows to her wrists. They'd scabbed over now, but the roughness of the skin suggested that there had been a lot of blood. What if she caught an artery with the edge of a nail, accidentally doing some real damage and bled to death in her sleep? Did she have to start worrying about accidentally killing herself, on top of the constant threat of death by Bellatrix and every other Death Eater in this place?

Her eyelids were still slightly heavy from sleep, however disturbed it had been. Raising her hands to her face, she rubbed her eyes hard to get rid of the feeling.

_Can't sleep now. Can't risk it. _

Hermione shook her head quickly and stared into the blackness, unconsciously tensing at every drip of water from the damp cell walls. She didn't need to be clever to work out what the dream meant. What concerned her more was the fact that Bellatrix was not her main source of terror in that nightmare. She had finally highlighted the real issue; that, on some level, Hermione blamed herself for Ron leaving before, and now she blamed herself for the two of them leaving her here. After all, they were her best friends, weren't they? They wouldn't leave her unless there was a reason.

They wouldn't.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that :) Now we can start to see a rescue mission taking shape, so hopefully Hermione will be out of harm's way soon. I haven't actually written that far ahead yet but my plans are shaping up nicely.  
**

**Please leave me a review to tell me what you thought of this one! :) If I have some more reviews this week, I might update before New Year *hint hint***

**Have a very Merry Christmas, everyone! xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy New Year, everyone! :D**

**I'm sorry this took so long. I know I promise I would update before New Year if I got more reviews and I've fallen down on the job a little bit. At least it's still technically New Year's Day? Still counts, right? :P  
**

**Before anyone asks, yes I am aware that this chapter is very Theo-centric. This is intentional and will help the story progress to the part that I know you're all waiting for :P**

**Huge, HUGE thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far: buttercup88 (extra thanks for reviewing twice!), gus'hazelgrace, , Ramyfan, SeawardSun90, annaea3077, Wordwryhta, Honoria Granger and WailFin.  
**

**Also a big thank you to all those of you who are following this story and have favourited it - you've no idea how encouraging it is to see that people are looking forward to reading more. **

**Here's another chapter. Enjoy!**

**TRIGGER ****WARNING:**** brief ****references to sensitive issues**

* * *

"Ah, the prodigal son returns!" The Dark Lord rose from his throne and threw his arms wide as Theo entered the hall and walked down the middle of the floor towards him. Murmurs and hisses followed him as he walked between the rows of Death Eaters, but he ignored them, keeping his eyes forwards. In his arms, something inside the heavy wooden box clunked sickeningly against the side.

"I have brought you a gift, my Lord."

"A gift? Pray, don't keep us in such suspense. What have you brought me?" The snake-like slits that passed for nostrils on his inhuman face widened in anticipation as Theo stopped before his throne and unclasped the lid of the box.

He thought about saying something, but decided actions would speak louder and simply opened the box, tipping it upside down. The heavy object fell to the floor with a wet 'thump' and rolled to a stop at the Dark Lord's feet. Blonde hair splayed across the floor above a pale, blue-eyed face, frozen forever in a grimace of pain.

The murmurs grew louder, a susurration that filled the ballroom until the Dark Lord raised a white hand. Silence fell so suddenly that Theo wondered for a moment if they were all under a Silencing charm.

"You have done well, young Nott. I wondered whether you would be able to raise your wand to your old classmate, but you have pleasantly surprised me. I may decide to send you on more errands for me in the future, but for now you may simply enjoy your success." The Dark Lord gave Theo a chilling smile and placed one of his spidery hands on his shoulder. Theo steeled himself not to shudder at the contact and simply waited for the Dark Lord's next words.

"Now, I believe you were promised a reward. Bring it in," he commanded and someone - Theo didn't turn to see who - left the hall, returning shortly with another person. He glanced around to see Crabbe Sr dragging a dark-haired girl into the ballroom, gripping her tightly by her upper arm.

"I apologise for not giving you the chance to choose your own reward," the Dark Lord said without a hint of apology, "but I trust this one will suffice."

Theo turned to the girl, who had been dragged in front of him. When Crabbe released her arm, she dropped to her knees at Theo's feet, shaking and staring at the floor. She must have been about thirteen and looked absolutely terrified. He didn't want her. He didn't want to be given a _person_, as if they were a new broomstick or a pet. Could he refuse?

Then he thought about what would happen to her if he refused his 'reward'. She would be returned to the so-called 'care' of the other Death Eaters, who would be far less gentle with her than he would. And that was putting it lightly.

He made up his mind. "I thank you, my Lord. May I go?"

The Dark Lord inclined his head in assent, still smiling. Nott bowed in return, then reached down and grasped the girl's arms, careful not to squeeze too hard where Crabbe had held her. She cried out and tried to struggle as he raised her to her feet, so he did the only thing he could to shut her up without revealing his true feelings.

He slapped her.

The shock of the blow stunned the girl and she went limp in his arms. Grabbing her around the middle, he slung her over his shoulder and walked quickly out of the hall, ignoring the jeers and wolf-whistles that followed him up the stairs.

He knew what they expected him to do now, but there was no way he would be doing that. Not tonight, not ever. This girl had done nothing wrong, as far as he was aware. Other than living with the wrong blood in the wrong country; that wasn't a crime as far as he was concerned.

Theo set the girl on his bed and stepped back as she slowly sat up, rubbing the side of her face hesitantly. She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes as he wordlessly locked the door and shut the curtains. He turned to face her and she cringed, curling into a protective ball on the bed, all the while staring with those huge scared eyes.

"I won't hurt you," he said quietly.

She didn't move, but confusion darted across her face as he watched.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I needed to get both of us out of there."

The girl raised her head slightly up from her folded arms. "Are you going to rape me, too?" she asked in a small voice.

Theo flinched at the bluntness of her question. "No, I'm not. I'm not going to touch you."

"Then...why did you take me up here?"

She genuinely didn't understand, Theo realised with shock. What exactly had happened to this girl to make her like this? Then something she'd said made him freeze.

"What do you mean, 'too'? Has someone else..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. He stared at her, realising her hands were curled around her stomach in a way that could only be called 'protective'.

_Oh my god, she's not..._ "You're pregnant?"

She nodded mutely.

"You're sure?"

She nodded again, waiting for his reaction.

Theo turned away and rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. He didn't know what to do. All he _could_ do was pace the floor and shake his head to try and get rid of the voice screaming _I have a pregnant mudblood in my bedroom_ over and over again.

Eventually he managed, "I assume you don't know who the father is?"

The girl shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but Theo raised a hand.

"Actually, it's probably best if I know as little as possible about this. If they knew you were pregnant they'd kill you, you know that right?"

Her eyes widened and he realised with shock that she _hadn't_ known. She'd thought she'd be able to keep her baby. Her lip quivered and, to Theo's horror, tears started to spill down her cheeks.

"Please, don't cry," he said desperately, thinking hard. "Look, um...what's your name?"

She sniffled. "Lucy."

"Lucy. I'm going to send for some food, alright? I'm hungry and you look half starved." He raised his voice. "Mokey!"

The elf appeared within seconds. "What do you require of Mokey, master Nott?"

"Food. Something hot, whatever's left over from dinner," Theo said firmly, not missing the fact that the elf stared at Lucy the entire time he was speaking.

"Of course, sir!" the elf squeaked, before disappearing into thin air.

Lucy was still staring at Theo, who sighed and shook his head, waving his hand in the direction of a door across the room. "There's a bathroom through there. Go and clean yourself up. Take as long as you want."

She hesitated, then darted towards the door and slammed it shut behind her. He thought he could hear sobbing through the wood-panelling and resolved to ignore it. She wouldn't want his comfort, even if he wanted to give it. He was just another Death Eater to her; comrade to the men who'd raped her, to the monster whose child was growing inside her.

Only when he heard running water from inside the bathroom was he able to relax slightly. At least she was willing and able to look after herself when given the opportunity. He'd seen some girls after the Death Eaters were through with them; broken shells of the girls they'd once been, having given up long ago and resigned themselves to servitude. Even when given the chance to bathe themselves or eat, they couldn't do it without the say-so of their 'masters'. He was thankful that this girl hadn't yet reached that point, resolving that she would never reach it while she was in his power. He refused to use the word 'possession', as if she was a shiny new toy.

_If you're not going to have her, where's she going to sleep?_

It was a good question. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on the couch by the opposite wall. A flick of his wand transformed the small couch into a generously proportioned single bed; another flick and the cushions that had been on the couch were now full-size pillows. Finally he grabbed a blanket from the shelf in his wardrobe and transfigured it into a duvet.

There. Now they could both be comfortable, without it becoming too awkward.

A loud 'crack' resounded and he looked round to see Mokey setting a tray down on his coffee table. The tray held a large dish of what looked like beef stew, a plate piled high with thickly sliced bread, a dish of soft butter and a jug of pumpkin juice with two glasses.

"It is enchanted, sir, so it will stay warm until you have finished!" Mokey squeaked. "Enjoy your food, sir!"

Theo nodded to the elf, suppressing the urge to say 'thank you' before Mokey disappeared. There was no way he'd be able to look anyone in the eye ever again if they heard he'd thanked a house-elf, but habits of courtesy were hard to break. Pulling a chair up to the table, he poured himself a drink and started to butter a slice of bread.

* * *

After at least an hour had passed, Theo was on the verge of knocking on the bathroom door to check if she'd drowned herself when the handle turned slowly. The door opened, letting in a waft of scented steam. The side of Lucy's face poked around the door and she looked uncertain.

"Um...should I put my clothes back on, or-"

Theo froze, his mind whirring. "Oh. Yes! No. I mean, hang on..."

_She can't put those filthy rags back on,_ he thought, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a t-shirt. He tossed it at her and kept rummaging until he found a pair of shorts, throwing them to her too. He pointedly ignored the niggling voice in his head, whispering about underwear. She could sort herself out . Lucy disappeared back into the bathroom and reappeared moments later, carrying her old clothes in a neat bundle.

"Put them by the door. The elf will deal with them." He gestured for her to come and sit at the table with him. "You must be starving."

Her eyes widened as she stared at the spread of food. It had to be more food than she'd seen all at once in a very long time. Reaching out slowly, as if she thought he might change his mind at any moment, she tentatively reached out and picked up a slice of bread. Once it was in her hand, she clutched it quickly to her chest with her wide eyes fixed on him, just in case he decided to take it away from her.

Theo nodded at the food encouragingly, then turned away and served himself a bowl of stew. Eating quickly - he was hungry too - he observed her out of the corner of his eye. He was gratified to see that she was greedily eating stew in big spoonfuls, dipping her slice of bread into the gravy and stuffing it into her mouth. She clearly hadn't eaten properly in weeks, maybe even months; she needed all the nutrition she could get if she was to have a healthy baby.

He almost laughed out loud at the idea of a mudblood bringing up a baby in this place. As if that kid would have a chance of being 'healthy' in any sense of the word.

They made no small talk during the meal, only speaking once when he offered her a glass of juice. She took it without reply and swallowed it down in one huge gulp, holding the glass out for more.

"Where am I to sleep?" she asked eventually, putting her empty glass down on the table. Her tone was a mixture of fear and resignation, as if she had already guessed his answer - which, he supposed, was understandable given her experiences of Death Eaters before him.

"There." He pointed at the couch he'd transfigured for her. "You can sleep there."

"Then you... You don't want me...like that?" she asked, looking confused but also relieved.

"Aren't you happy that I don't?" he asked her in return, offering a small smile.

Lucy nodded, then looked afraid. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any-"

"Don't be sorry," Theo said quickly. "I'm not like them, Lucy." His expression was serious; he _needed_ her to believe he was different from the others who wore the Mark. "I will not harm you, or touch you in any way that you don't want. Okay?"

She looked shocked for a moment, then a smile crossed her thin face and she nodded. "Thank you," she said sincerely, then hesitated. "What should I call you?"

He thought for a moment. "When it's just the two of us, call me Nott. If we're around the others you should probably call me Master, otherwise they'll think something's up. I don't like it, but they'll get suspicious." He hated the idea of someone having to call him 'Master', but it was the only way to avoid getting both of them in serious trouble.

"It isn't the worst thing I've been told to do, Nott," Lucy replied, smiling sadly. She opened her mouth to say more but her first word turned into a huge yawn instead.

Theo indicated the bed and said, "Go on. I'll have some chores for you tomorrow so get some rest."

She nodded and got into the other bed, turning away so he couldn't see her face. He dimmed the lights to almost darkness, stripped down to his shorts and got into his own bed, trying to ignore the fact that she was sobbing quietly into her pillow.

* * *

Thirteen hours later, Theo was walking down the stairs to the dungeons and feeling very pleased with himself. He'd had the foresight to hide a couple of slices of bread from last night's dinner in a bag which he stashed in his cloak. That meant he was able to add them to Hermione's plate on his way down the stairs without anyone else seeing. He had almost taken a slice of cheese from the kitchen as well, but thought it might make her thirsty and she didn't get a lot of water. Probably a bad idea.

As he started down the long hallway, watching the walls appear as the circle of light from the lantern fell on the dark stonework, he heard two voices in conversation. He took a deep breath, then raised his wand and said clearly, "_Silencio_."

The male voice fell silent and Hermione's voice rang out. "Who did that?"

"Sorry, Granger. I had to." Theo walked up to her cell and unlocked the door, resisting the urge to turn around and look in the other cell. It had been easy before, when the prisoner was barely conscious and didn't speak.

Hermione moved slowly to the front of the cell and watched as he unlocked the door. Theo looked her over as he set the plate of food down in front of her, wincing internally as he saw the scratches down her arms and the raggedness of her hair. If he didn't know better, he would have said Bellatrix had been having a go at her while he was away.

_She needs to get out of here. She's going to go insane,_ Theo thought grimly, grateful that he'd acted quickly in arranging the meeting with Potter.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, apparently noticing his gaze.

_No you're not,_ he wanted to say, but held his tongue. "There's extra bread there for you," he said instead to change the subject. She was obviously self-conscious and he didn't want to make it worse. "No butter this time, I'm afraid. There wasn't any to hand when I stashed the bread."

"Thank you." She took a bite of the soft, fresh bread he'd brought down, almost sighing with enjoyment.

Theo smiled at the look of deep contentment on her face as she chewed. _A slice of bread and she looks _this_ happy? She definitely needs to get out of here._

"I'm going away again tomorrow," he said hesitantly, watching her response. He'd decided on the way down that it would be best to tell her like it was a mission. That way, if he never came back, she wouldn't think he'd abandoned her. He tried not to think about why this mattered so much to him.

At first she didn't react, then she raised her head, swallowing a mouthful of stew. "For how long?"

"I don't know. Hopefully not too long. It's only supposed to take a day but there's no guarantee."

She nodded slowly, her expression growing anxious. "Will it be dangerous?"

Theo considered. A meeting with Harry Potter to discuss treason against the Dark Lord... "Shouldn't be too bad," he replied finally. "I'll be careful."

"As long as you are." She gave a small smile. "I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for you, Theo."

_Neither do I, _he thought, suppressing a grimace. Instead he said, "I'd better deal with this," and reached for the door, crossing the hallway to put the food down in the other cell. Before he unlocked the door he pointed his wand into the darkness and said, "_Imobulus_. Sorry."

There was a small thump, as if the person in the cell had been unbalanced when they were frozen and hence had fallen over. He set the food down and left the cell, locking it carefully. Theo hated all the secrecy; what difference did it make if he knew who the prisoner was? He knew Hermione from before, and nobody seemed to care about that! But the Dark Lord had decreed it and so he had to obey.

"You have to go," Hermione said when he stopped outside the bars of her cell.

It wasn't a question but he answered it anyway. "Yes."

"You'll come back soon, though?"

He looked at her pale, frightened face and nodded firmly. "Yes, I'll come back."

She nodded and he hated that he couldn't tell her why he was going. What could be the harm of giving her a little bit of hope?

_But what if you don't come back? She'd think you and Potter were caught, or worse, that Potter killed you himself. Better to wait and let her see._

Theo shook his head slightly to try and clear it. "Look, I really ought to..."

"Yes. You'll get in trouble."

He hated the dead tone to her voice. She'd seemed almost happy at times, but lately she'd become more and more withdrawn. Not that he could blame her, but he'd hoped that she'd be at least a little happier for these few days that Bellatrix wasn't around.

_She seemed happy enough talking to the other prisoner,_ a traitorous voice whispered in his ear.

He shrugged it off, almost scowling before he remembered Hermione was still looking up at him. "I'll be back soon. I can't tell you where I'm going, obviously, but I promise I'll be back soon."

Hermione nodded listlessly, sipping from her water jug. "Be safe," she said finally, setting the jug down with a wince.

Theo nodded in return. "You too."

As he walked back down the hall, he remembered with a jolt that he'd left the other prisoner silenced and immobilised. Raising his wand, he fought briefly with the devil on his shoulder before lifting both spells with a muttered, "_Finite_."

The muffled conversation resumed behind him and he ground his teeth, enduring a wave of jealousy. Of course she'd rather talk to _them. They_ know what she's going through. _They _understand her.

Well, he thought _he_ understood her pretty well, too.

* * *

Hermione watched the light disappear and heard Nott's footsteps fade away, absentmindedly picking at one of the scabs on her right forearm.

"What was that?" The boy's voice suddenly came back and she realised the Silencing charm had been lifted. He sounded annoyed and a little frightened.

"He cast a spell on you so he couldn't hear you and you couldn't move," she explained simply.

"But why? I wasn't going to do anything!"

"I guess he had to be sure." Hermione didn't really know why she was defending Nott to this stranger; maybe she had been right before and she really did view Nott as her friend? She wasn't sure.

"It was horrible." The boy broke off and gave what sounded like a yawn. "I wish there was some way of knowing the time down here. It feels like the middle of the night."

"Mmm," Hermione said noncommittally, then realised an actual sentence was probably expected of her. "It's most likely around lunchtime, if they've just given us food."

He yawned again. "I think I'm going to have a nap."

"Alright."

There was a pause, then the boy asked hesitantly, "Would you mind... would you hum again?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, then remembered that he couldn't see her. "Okay."

She hummed for what felt like hours before she started to hear gentle snores from the other cell. Fading out the humming so it wasn't a sudden silence, she sat back against the wall and fixed her eyes on an unseen point in the darkness. She was tired, too; aside from a couple of restless hours last night, she hadn't slept in two days. Pushing herself up so she was bolt upright against the stone, she started picking at the scabs again.

_Can't sleep. Not here. Not safe._

* * *

**As always, I hope you enjoyed this and please leave a review to tell me your thoughts on this chapter (or any other chapter, come to that!)  
**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! I trust everyone's having a good new year so far? :) Mine has been fraught with university coursework deadlines until yesterday, so I can finally focus a bit harder on writing! (yay :D)**

**Also, I hope nobody minds the Theo-centric couple of chapters I'm giving you. The pairing is already set and is going to happen, but a lot of story at this point centres on Theo's involvement so he's pretty important :)**

**Still very grateful to all who have reviewed so far, and thanks for all the follows and favourites - please don't forget to leave a review if you want me to know WHY my story is in your favourites list! If I don't know what I'm doing right, how will I know if I go wrong? (if that makes sense)**

**Enough from me. Enjoy!**

**WARNING: references to sensitive topics (if you've read to this point, you probably already know what I mean by that)**

* * *

After his slightly disturbing talk with Hermione that morning, Theo tried to enjoy the rest of his day off. After his apparent success at killing the blood traitor Luna Lovegood, the Dark Lord had granted him a couple of days free from Death Eater duties. That meant no rounds, no torture observation, and no missions which could endanger his plans. To most people, that was normal life, but to Theo it was a godsend.

His so-called 'freedom' was hampered, however, by the constant presence of Lucy, who seemed to have become somewhat emotionally attached to him after his kindness the night before. He tried to reassure her that the locking and silencing spells around his room were unbreakable except by the Dark Lord himself - and if the Dark Lord wanted in, you were already in trouble so locking spells were pointless. Understandably, she was little comforted by this and only seemed able to relax when he was in the room and showing no signs of leaving.

Theo knew that excessive stress could cause all sorts of issues with pregnancy and the last thing he wanted was for the girl to have a spontaneous miscarriage all over his floor or something. Despite what he'd said yesterday about giving her chores to do, he found he couldn't bring himself to give her any chores. Instead, he spent most of the day holed up in his rooms with her, writing in his journal or reading while she enjoyed another long soak in the bath and looked through his collections of Chocolate Frog cards and Quidditch magazines. It turned out that the girl was quite the Quidditch fan and Theo actually found himself enjoying a debate with her about which teams would qualify for the next season, or whether the Wimbourne Wasps were better off with or without Ludo Bagman.

It wasn't until the clock struck nine that Theo realised they'd completely missed lunch and dinner. As if on cue, both his and Lucy's stomachs growled in unison.

"Mokey!" Theo called.

The elf appeared, bowing low enough to brush the carpet with his nose. "At your service, Master Nott."

"Have some food brought up from the kitchens. Whatever's hot. And something cold to drink, and a hot chocolate." Nott watched the elf memorise the order and disappear with another swift bow.

"You don't want to be here, do you?"

The question stumped him for a moment. "Eh?"

"You're only here because you think you have to be. It's not you." Her tone was a mix of understanding and pity. Both things he'd longed to hear from someone for months, years even, but now it just made him angry.

"Who do you think you are?" he snapped. "You know nothing about me! You're just a-" He stopped himself before he said the last word.

"I'm just a mudblood," she said softly, moving away from him and instinctively hugging her belly with both hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Theo took a deep breath. "No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have shouted. And you're not a mudblood. You're muggleborn."

She blinked, surprised by his words, but didn't reply, so Theo went on.

"I just...nobody's ever really understood. Except maybe Draco, but he's gone." He pinched his lips together thinly.

"I'm sorry for your loss." She looked away awkwardly.

"What? No, he's not dead. Just gone away on a mission for a couple of weeks." Theo almost laughed at the look of confusion on her face. "I guess I'm just not used to people being nice to me without an agenda."

"Who says I haven't got one?" Lucy said with a smile.

"Survival doesn't count." Theo smirked back.

A 'crack' resounded and the elf reappeared, bearing a tray with two steaming helpings of chicken pie, a flagon of juice and a large round mug. "Enjoy, sir!" he squeaked before disappearing once more.

The meal was as quiet as yesterday's, only this time it was because Theo was thinking too hard for conversation. Tonight was the night he'd be meeting with Potter. When it had only been Hermione on the line (he didn't count himself as a factor) the plan was simple; now he had Lucy to worry about as well. He couldn't just leave her here. If he didn't come back someone would end up being given his quarters and then they'd get her too.

He heaved a silent sigh. _If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be risking my hide for a pair of muggleborns, I'd have had them referred to St Mungo's,_ he thought ruefully.

"Thank you for the food," Lucy said softly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Theo glanced down and realised he'd been eating on autopilot. The pie was gone, leaving only a glass or two of pumpkin juice and the hot chocolate, steaming on the table. He picked up the mug of hot chocolate and carried it over to the desk, opening a bottle of Firewhiskey. As Lucy watched, he sloshed a little of the whiskey into the mug and swirled it around to mix before handing it to her. "Here."

"But-"

"Just drink it. I need to tell you something and I don't want you to panic, okay?" He waited until she nodded before continuing. "I'm going away tonight and I'm taking you with me."

She froze, eyes widening as she slowly lowered the mug with shaking hands. "Wh-Where? When?"

"I'm meeting someone tonight. I'm helping them with something and I think they can help look after you." Theo smiled slightly and carried on. "I'm going to ask them to take you with them tonight. You won't have to stay here any longer."

"What if they don't want me?" Now she sounded frightened. He could understand why; she'd probably had freedom dangled in front of her nose, then snatched away, many times during her stay here at the manor.

"Trust me; they'll take you with them. I know them well enough to know that." Theo's smile widened at the look on her face. "You'll be able to raise your baby in peace and safety, Lucy."

Tears filled her eyes even as laughter spilled from her lips, creating a strange mixture of emotions. She seemed to hesitate, then did something he hadn't expected. Launching herself round the table, she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear before letting go and moving back quickly. She seemed worried that he might be angry about her behaviour, but he smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome. Now drink up."

She did as she was told, taking another gulp of the hot chocolate. "What time are we meeting these people?"

"Um, midnight." Theo glanced down and checking the time on his watch. With a small jolt of adrenaline he realised that it was already eleven o'clock. He had exactly one hour before he would be meeting with Harry Potter, leader of the enemy army, to discuss how to rescue Hermione and, with luck, start the process of ending the Dark Lord's reign of terror.

No pressure there, then.

"We'll leave in half an hour. That'll give us time to walk to the edge of the anti-Apparition wards."

"Will they let me out with you?" Lucy asked, a worried expression crossing her delicate features.

"Of course they will. In their eyes, you belong to me, so if I say you're going they can't stop you." Theo grimaced. "I might have to play that up a bit if we see anyone. Just play along, okay?"

"Okay." She nodded and gulped down the last of her drink, wincing a little as the Firewhiskey caught her throat. "Thank you," she said again, setting the mug down on the table. "Do you think the elf will tell anyone you were kind to me?"

"I don't care if he does. According to their rules, you're mine to do with as I please. If I want to be nice to you, they have no say in the matter. But..."

"You want to keep _some_ standing?" she finished.

He nodded. "Exactly. I may need to come back to my post here before this is over and I'd rather not be a total social pariah."

He checked his watch again. Twenty-five minutes to twelve. "We should go."

On the way out of the door he quickly renewed the locking spells, just in case, then they made their way down to the entrance hall. Luckily, most of the Death Eaters seemed to be either in bed or elsewhere, because they made it halfway across the gravel driveway before they were accosted by Blaise and Macnair. Blaise grimaced at Theo when Macnair wasn't looking, showing his distaste at being partnered with the ex-Ministry animal exterminator.

"What's this, Nott?" Macnair demanded, eyeing Lucy with a leer.

"I'm going out for a few drinks. I'm taking my mudblood with me."

"Why not leave her here? We'll take care of her." Macnair reached out to stroke Lucy's cheek, but Theo jerked her out of reach, keeping his grip on her upper arm.

"She's mine, Macnair. The Dark Lord himself said so. Keep your hands off if you know what's good for you."

Macnair opened his mouth to snarl but Blaise stepped in between them. "Please. All this fighting over a filthy mudblood slut? Is she really worth that much, Macnair?"

The older man curled his lip derisively. "Keep your mudblood. She isn't much fun anyway, from what I heard. Screams and cries too much."

Theo ground his teeth, but bit back the insult he was itching to say and instead spoke calmly, "We'll be going now. Good to see you, Blaise."

Deliberately ignoring Macnair as they walked past, he pulled Lucy forwards until they were far enough away that the darkness and distance would conceal his letting go of her arm and patting her shoulder reassuringly instead. "You did really well," he told her. "They bought it."

She smiled, eyes glistening with what looked like unshed tears of fright. "Now what?"

"Now, we go." He reached out his hand and felt the edge of the wards. It was almost like passing through a slightly warm curtain of air. Once they were both outside it, he curled his fingers around her arm again and Apparated them both away.

* * *

As soon as their feet hit the ground, Theo pulled her back into the shadows of a nearby building. While Potter's sense of honour and decency was legendary to the point of idiotic, he didn't trust any Order members as far as he could throw them.

"We're meeting them...here?" Lucy whispered, obviously frightened and a little off balance. He briefly wondered whether it was her first time Side-Along Apparating, but decided not to ask and simply nodded instead.

They stayed in the shadows for another minute or so, before Theo deemed the coast clear enough to venture out.

"At least it's not raining," he muttered as they crossed the deserted courtyard towards the barn where he'd cornered Lovegood two days ago.

"Oh my god!" Lucy pulled back with her hands over her mouth, cowering in the doorway.

Theo glanced around with a wince of distaste, remembering how he and Lovegood had redecorated the barn with fresh pig's blood. Lovegood hadn't wanted to hurt the animal but Theo knew he had to make it believable. Any idiot knew it was impossible to cut someone's head off without making a mess, even when using magic. It made it even more believable if one held the opinion that Theo was an amateur, who probably wouldn't think to clean up afterwards.

At least the pig had died pretty quickly. Lovegood had made sure it went quietly and he had collected the blood in a bucket, splashing it over the floor and up the walls in dark streaks and drips. It was a gruesome sight, but worth it since the deceit seemed to have paid off. He definitely owed Lovegood for teaching him how to transfigure the pig's head into hers. He couldn't have pulled that off without her help.

Damned smart-ass Ravenclaws.

"Are they here yet?" Lucy whispered, edging into the room once Theo had confirmed it was safe.

"I don't think so," Theo said, but spun around at the sound of a 'crack' from the courtyard. "I stand corrected." Drawing his wand, he pushed Lucy behind him and stepped back into the shadows.

"I bet he won't even show up. Slimy Slytherin git." That was definitely Potter's voice.

"We _are_ a little early, Harry," another voice countered, this one female and distinctively airy-fairy. Lovegood, he'd bet money on it.

When the voices reached the doorway and he could be sure nobody else had followed them, he stepped out of the shadows, still holding his wand raised. "Evening, Lovegood. Potter."

"Nott." Potter inclined his head and tucked his wand away into his waistband.

Theo waited until Lovegood had done the same before putting away his weapon. "I notice you came alone, you two. Good choice."

"I notice you didn't," Potter replied, nodding at Lucy. "Who's this?"

Lucy stepped forwards fearfully, tears filling her eyes. Theo could feel her shaking as she stood beside him. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he rubbed her arm comfortingly and explained, "She's a muggleborn. The Dark Lord...gave her to me after my successful mission. I told her you could take her in."

"_Gave_ her?" Lovegood's eyes widened in horror. "And you've been using her like-"

"No, I haven't. I didn't touch her. But I wasn't the first Death Eater she encountered. She's..." He glanced at Lucy, who nodded tearfully. "She's pregnant."

Now it was Potter's turn to be shocked. "They _raped_..."

"I'm standing right here," Lucy said suddenly, looking from one face to another. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be a burden."

"Don't be silly," Lovegood said firmly. "How far along are you?"

Lovegood drew Lucy aside and they talked quietly while Theo stared at Potter, who stared back. "How can I trust you?" Potter said finally. "Luna said you could get Veritaserum?"

Theo shook his head. "I couldn't get away with it. Too many Death Eaters in the lab. I'm no Occlumens, though, and I hear you're pretty good at Legilimency."

Potter seemed to be considering for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But if I see _anything_ that suggests a trap or that you're lying to us-"

"You won't." Theo closed his eyes and prepared for the mental barrage Potter would no doubt unleash on him.

To his surprise, Potter was actually quite gentle, sifting through the memories Theo offered up as proof of his honesty. He showed little reaction to Theo's memories of the other Death Eaters, of the Dark Lord himself, even of the 'gift' of Lucy or her revelation that she was pregnant. Only when Hermione became involved did Potter show any emotional reaction. Theo showed him the torture, the food she was being given and finally the state he'd last seen her in.

Potter was obviously getting more and more distressed as he showed him Hermione's dead expression, the raggedness of her hair and the clearly self-inflicted scratch marks down her arms.

"We need to get her out," he said simply, once Potter had resurfaced. The black-haired boy was breathing hard and his fists were clenched.

"Why do you care about her? What do you want from us?"

Theo blinked. That was not the response he'd been expecting. "I don't know why I care. I just do. I don't want to see her hurt anymore."

"But you'll want something from us, won't you? Information, or amnesty, or-"

He broke off when Theo shook his head. "I just want Hermione safe and for her," he jerked his thumb over to where Lucy was sobbing on Lovegood's shoulder, "to be able to have her baby in peace. I don't expect to survive this, Potter."

The boy's green eyes widened at the last comment. Theo wondered for a moment why he'd said it, then decided he didn't care; it was still true.

"Alright." Potter held out his hand.

For a few seconds, Theo stared at it. Up till now, he'd still had the chance to run for it. Lucy was safe now; they wouldn't abandon her here. If he shook Potter's hand and sealed their bargain, there was no going back.

He took Potter's hand and shook it firmly. "I'll help. But for her, not for you."

"Fair enough." Potter grinned and, for a moment, Theo almost felt he could begin to like Golden Boy Potter. He didn't seem as obnoxious as his red-haired Weasley sidekick.

"What do you plan to do? And when?" Potter asked when they'd let go of each other's hands and the girls had joined them. Lucy looked much happier now, her tears wiped away and a hand absently rubbing the side of her stomach.

"Bellatrix is expected back at the manor in the next few days, so it has to be before her arrival. That probably means tomorrow night, when most of the Death Eaters are asleep or out on their own missions. I can lower the wards to allow Apparition into the dungeons for a minute or so, but it won't be undetected."

"So we have to get in, grab Hermione and get out in a minute or less." Potter didn't phrase it like a question but Theo nodded anyway.

"There will probably be fighting so bring your best if you want everyone to get out in one piece," he added, suppressing a grimace.

"And whose side will you be fighting on, Theodore?" Lovegood asked.

He looked away for a moment, trying to ignore her piercing gaze before responding. "I won't fight against you, if that's what you mean," he said finally.

"That's better than nothing," Potter said, with a nod. "Here."

He held his hand out again, this time holding something between his forefinger and thumb. Theo took it warily to find it was a golden galleon. "Eh?" he asked, turning the coin over in his fingers. "What's this for?"

"It's for contacting us. Look." Potter held up another galleon and paused for a moment, a look of concentration on his face.

Theo almost dropped his galleon as it grew suddenly hot in his hand. Staring down at the blank gold circle, he watched letters appear as if it was being engraved before his eyes.

_Like this._

"I see. Protean charm?" he asked in surprise, not expecting Potter to be capable of such complex magic.

"Yeah. Hermione did it, back in fifth year. You'll need to use a wand if you can't do wandless magic, though."

Theo nodded dumbly, his eyes wide. A Protean charm, in her _fifth_ year? He knew she was brilliant, but _bloody hell_.

"Right, well I guess I should be getting back. You'll take good care of Lucy, won't you?" Theo directed this question at Luna, who nodded firmly.

"She'll be in good hands," the girl affirmed. "And her baby, too."

"Good." Theo tucked the galleon into his pocket and turned to Lucy. "Good luck," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry for what happened to you."

Tears were still staining her cheeks but she managed a smile and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. You saved me from all that."

_Don't remind me_. Theo forced a smile, suppressing a wince as he remembered that he'd now have to come up with a reason why she was no longer with him when he arrived at the manor. "I should go."

The Order members nodded and the four of them split up outside the barn, Theo walking off to the left while the others went right. He heard the 'crack' of their Disapparition before he did the same.

* * *

**Before anyone says anything, I know it sounds awfully convenient that Theo can just lower the wards whenever he likes, but trust me - it will be explained soon :) I can't guarantee it'll be in the next chapter because I haven't written it yet :P but it WILL be explained :)**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you don't think I was too mean with what had happened to Lucy :S**

**Please leave a review and let me know! ^_^**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! :) **

**Still very grateful to all my reviewers, followers and favourite-ers (that's a real word now, by the way), and extra thanks to Honoria Granger and annaea3077 for their reviews last Sunday - you guys made my week :D**

**I didn't realise quite how dark this story was getting, but you still seem to be enjoying it as you're still reading! Hehe... **

**Note: I've been pretty tame with the language so far, but it's going to go a little downhill from here onwards. Nothing too foul but there will be occasional F and S words in there. Hope everyone's alright with that? :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He was getting worried, Hermione knew. She supposed that she would be a little concerned if she was in his position, and her only companion made noises like he was being murdered every time he slept. Not that she slept anymore. She couldn't take the risk.

He had tried to speak to her multiple times since he awoke from his nap but she had only offered brief replies, not wanting her voice to betray anything of how she felt. Her fingers rubbed absentmindedly over the scabbed lines on her arms. She shivered, but not from cold, as her nail caught on an edge and she pulled her hand back sharply. It would not do to rip the scab off and bleed to death, after all her precautions. That would make it a wasted effort. Instead she gripped the edge of the invisible blanket tighter and pulled it up higher over her knees. She tried not to think about how weak her muscles had become, her hands shaking as she tugged the blankets up.

Her stomach was growling but she ignored it. If she stayed hungry, she would be less likely to get sleepy. She made sure to keep drinking water, though; she didn't want to get too dehydrated. Her head hurt enough already. She started to scratch at the scab again.

"Aren't you hungry?"

She jumped at the voice and scratched harder than she meant to, taking off some of the scab on the inside of her elbow. "Ouch!" she hissed, then caught herself and added hastily, "Um, what?"

"I said, aren't you hungry? You haven't touched your plate."

"How do you know?" she asked, frowning.

"Because you haven't moved since that man came down with the food. I have pretty good hearing."

He had her there. "I'm not hungry." Her stomach growled again. "Traitor," she muttered, poking it with a finger.

"Apparently you are." The boy's words suggested sarcasm but his tone was serious. "I don't understand you," he said sharply. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

She blinked, then chuckled. "No. Trying to stay alive, believe it or not."

"Funny way to do it."

She opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut again before she said something she'd regret. He didn't need to know how terrified she was of ripping open the scabs and bleeding to death in this Death Eater prison. He didn't need to know just how badly she wished she was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. He didn't need to know that she was almost wishing for Bellatrix to return, just to have a distraction from the terror of her own mind.

Hermione didn't think she'd tried so hard at anything in her life. Not for her exams, or to understand her feelings for Ron, or anything else that she could think of. She was trying so hard to stay alive that it felt like she was dying anyway. But it didn't matter if he believed her, or thought she was crazy.

The important thing was, she _was_ trying.

* * *

Theo crossed the sharp gravel quickly and walked through the gates to Malfoy Manor, which turned to smoke when he raised his left arm - the one with the Mark. The long walk up the drive felt like it took forever in the cold wind, but eventually he found himself in front of Macnair and Blaise, still out on watch by the huge doors. They looked freezing and Theo grimaced in sympathy at Blaise, who returned the expression.

"Evening," Theo said shortly as he approached the pair.

"Where's your mudblood, Nott?" Blaise asked, frowning.

"Gone. I was done with her anyway."

"You killed it?" Macnair grunted disbelievingly. "Yeah, right."

"Nope." He dug the galleon Potter had given him out of his pocket and flicked it into the air, watching it spin before catching it again. "Sold her. I had what I wanted from her and I couldn't stand her whining."

"How much did you get?" Macnair asked, greedily eyeing the pocket the galleon had gone back into.

Theo turned away, pointedly ignoring Macnair. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Blaise."

"'Night, mate."

He felt more than a little sick at the fact that they believed him capable of selling a human being. Hoping that Blaise knew him better than that, he entered the manor and made his way quickly and cautiously up the stairs towards his room. All the way up he was waiting for a curse in the back, or for a spidery white-fingered hand to fall onto his shoulder. Only when he was back in his room did Theo's heart rate return to almost-normal. Nevertheless, he poured himself a large glass of Firewhiskey and drained it in one gulp before he even sat down.

Finally feeling slightly more relaxed, he fished the galleon back out of his pocket. After a moment's thought, the coin heated up and two words appeared on the smooth gold surface.

_Testing. Nott. _

He waited a few minutes, watching the coin intently until it heated up again.

_Unless it's important, fuck off. _

Theo chuckled. That'd be Weasley then. Golden Boy Potter would never use such foul language so casually, he was certain of it.

He looked around and spotted his pyjama trousers lying across his pillow. He _was_ fairly tired after the stress of the last few days, but he owed it to Hermione to at least check in on her. He knew Lucy would be fine, so that was one muggleborn off his plate (so to speak). Hermione, unfortunately, was another story entirely.

Theo decided that there was no way he could go to bed with a clear conscience if he didn't at least check on Hermione first. Taking off his boots, he pulled on a pair of soft-soled slippers and hung his coat up before leaving the room again. Tapping the lock with his wand, he reapplied the usual locking spells and started to make his way silently down the stairs. Every creak of the floorboards set his teeth on edge but he made it all the way to the dungeons without being seen.

* * *

The dungeon was silent when he reached the bottom of the steps. Casting a wordless _Silencio_ at the cell opposite, just in case, he walked forwards and aimed the beam of his wand at the ceiling, so that the light would reflect and allow them both to see each other. He bit his lip, then forced a smile as she turned her head to look at him.

"Hello," she said, with only slight inflection.

"Hi." He reached for the lock, then hesitated. "Is it alright if I...?"

"If you like. It isn't my house." She gestured vaguely at the door and he tried not to stare at the rivulets of dark dried blood running down her arms and hands. She'd been scratching at her arms again, that much was obvious. It didn't look much worse than last time but she'd clearly been picking at the scabs. What worried him more, though, were the grey half-circles under her eyes and the unhealthy pallor of her face.

He let himself into the cell and locked it again, though with Hermione in this state there seemed little point. She was hardly going to overpower him like this. "When did you last sleep, Hermione?" he asked, gently.

"Not long ago," she replied without hesitation, but Theo wasn't fooled.

"Come on, Hermione. It's pretty obvious that isn't true."

Hermione scowled, but the expression was half-hearted at best. "Um. I don't know. Yesterday? No, longer than that. I don't remember."

Theo shook his head, exhaling sharply. "You'll kill yourself if you carry on like this."

"If I'm to die anyway, I'd rather it be on my own terms," she replied, and Theo was taken aback by the sudden conviction in her voice.

"You don't have to die," he said suddenly, then kicked himself for saying it. _Idiot!_

"What?" Hermione's frown deepened and she looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Theo berated himself. "First things first. Can I...Can I look at your arms, please?" He crouched beside her, trying not to feel hurt by the way she cringed away. "I won't hurt you," he murmured gently. "You know I won't hurt you."

She hesitated, looking like she wanted to push the matter of what he'd said a moment ago, then gave in. Extending her arms slowly, she winced as some of the scabs cracked open. Theo bit his tongue to hold back a curse as he saw fresh rivulets of blood running down from the scratches. Instead, he waved his wand slowly over one, then the other, bathing her scabbed and bleeding forearms in the white light issuing from the wand-tip. He could just make out the edges of several letters carved into her left arm, the same place as where his own disfigurement had been placed. It was impossible to make out the word through all the dried blood but he knew what it said. He grimaced and gently guided her hands back towards her. Hermione folded her arms back against herself, pulling what must have been one of her Disillusioned blankets up over her legs.

"I'm so glad I gave you those," he said, indicating the blankets.

Hermione nodded. "So am I." She hesitated, then continued. "Theo, I know Bellatrix is going to be back soon, and I doubt she'll keep me forever. Before she...before she kills me, I want to say-"

Theo held up a hand. "Stop. Please."

"But-"

"There's no need for that." Theo took a deep breath. _In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, Theo._ "Hermione, I...I have a plan."

"A plan? A plan for what?" She sat up straighter, looking him right in the eye. "A plan for _what_, Theo?"

"I can't tell you much. I'm sorry." He swallowed. "All I can say is, it won't be tonight, but it could be anytime from tomorrow onwards."

"Can't you be more specific? _What_ won't be tonight?"

He winced. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Then, on impulse, he reached over and enveloped her in his arms, holding her close. She tensed when he touched her, but relaxed slightly after a few seconds. Theo had wanted to do it for years, watching her with her friends and wishing he could be the one to hold her hand or run his fingers through her long, soft curls instead of that idiot Weasley. He'd done it once before, when she'd needed someone there to hold her while she cried. Now, _he_ needed someone. He needed her.

"Theo, are you alright?"

The question caught him by surprise and he took a second or two to consider his answer. "I'm alright. I just hate that you're not alright."

She pulled away from him and stared directly into his eyes. "Why do you care about me, Theo?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

"We never knew each other at school."

"No."

"You were one of Malfoy's lot, weren't you?" The question wasn't scathing or derogatory; just a question.

He shrugged, trying not to feel hurt that she only remembered him in that capacity. _I never laughed along with them.._. "I wasn't one of his sycophants, if that's what you're asking. We were friends."

"Malfoy actually had friends?" Hermione looked disbelieving.

Theo heaved a sigh. "I'm not going to sit here and defend him for all the shit he's done. He's not been a nice guy, especially not to you. But he's been a friend to me."

She nodded slowly. "I understand."

They sat in silence for a couple of seconds, then Hermione coughed softly. "So you can't tell me _anything_ about this plan of yours?"

"I don't want to give you too much false hope, in case it doesn't work." Theo frowned for a moment. "I realise I've already done that..."

"No, it's alright." Hermione smiled. Theo was saddened to see that the expression was a ghost of the sparkling smile he'd seen so many times before. "Any hope is better than nothing."

He smiled back. "That's a good way to look at it."

"So what happens now is that I have to sit here and be ready for anything, anytime from now onwards?"

_She makes it sound so simple..._ "Yes, basically. Sorry." He winced; it had to be infuriating to only have such little information.

"Okay." She pulled the invisible blankets higher. As she did so, her stomach grumbled loudly and she winced, pressing a hand to her abdomen in what looked like an involuntary motion.

Theo glanced around and spotted her plate of food, still full, in the corner of the cell. "What's that, Hermione?"

She froze at his tone and looked up fearfully. Theo frowned, then realised he'd sounded angry. Softening his tone, he tried again. "Have you eaten today? Did you eat yesterday?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but another rumble from her stomach answered for her.

Shaking his head, Theo stood and picked up the plate, bringing it over to her. "Why aren't you eating, Hermione? Do you _want_ to get ill?"

"A human can survive without food for up to three weeks or even longer, as long as they keep drinking water." Hermione reeled off a textbook answer and waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the water jug which, upon inspection, proved to be almost empty.

"I don't care what the textbooks say, I care about you!" Theo fought to keep his voice from rising to a shout. "Hermione, I know I'm the very last person to be asking anything of you but please, _please_, stop this."

Hermione stared up at him, her eyes wide. "I can't," she whispered.

"Why on earth not?" he asked, frowning.

She swallowed. "Being hungry keeps me awake. If I sleep, I..." She trailed off, but glanced down at her arms and he saw that her eyes were glistening with tears.

_Oh, Hermione. I had no idea._ It had been obvious that the scratches were self-inflicted, but he'd had no idea she'd been doing it in her _sleep_. No bloody wonder she was so scared.

He reached over and gently took her hands in his. "I can't say I know what it feels like, but I'm familiar with nightmares. I'm going to make them go away, Hermione."

She bit her lip, then the tears started to flow and he pulled her close as she shuddered and sobbed into his chest.

"Please, make them stop... Make them go away... I can't do it anymore..." she choked, the pain in her voice almost bringing tears to Theo's own eyes. He couldn't let her see though; she'd fall completely apart if he did that.

Instead he hugged her close and whispered in her ear. "It's going to be alright, I promise. Nobody is going to hurt you, ever again. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Hermione."

Not sure if she heard him, he continued to murmur until her sobs abated a little and she raised her head to look into his face. At the same time, he had a sudden jolt of fear as he realised he had no idea how long he'd been down there.

"You...You have to go, don't you?" she whispered tearfully.

He nodded, hating himself for it. "I'm sorry. I promise, I will make everything okay. But I have to go, now."

She nodded back, her expression distracted. "Will you come back?"

"I...I don't know," he admitted, wincing at the sudden fear in her eyes. "But even if I can't come back, I _will_ make sure you're safe. That I promise you."

Hermione looked so lost that Theo wanted to hug her again, but he couldn't. He was afraid that, if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go. "Goodbye, Hermione," he whispered, wishing desperately that he could stay. "Remember, be ready."

She nodded, tears streaking silently down her ivory cheeks. "I will."

He smiled. _That's my girl._

Walking away was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but if he stayed then all of his work would be for nothing. He remembered to lift the silencing charm just before he reached the steps up to the house; that sparked another thought in his mind.

_Hermione's wand - where is it?_

* * *

**I was almost in tears while writing this chapter :'( Am I too mean to my characters? :S  
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**I hope you enjoyed it, despite the sadness. Please leave a review and let me know!  
**

**Thanks for reading :D**


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